Fractured Desires

Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Mostly Satoru Gojo x Reader)- It's a mess tbh lol- This chap also has Choso x reader (past)

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, threesomes/ foursomes/ complicated shit, infidelity. Abusive gaslighting Suguru. Yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- Rough sex, obsessed behavior, heavy angst, most of this chap is angst, a fucked up, messy chapter. Cunnilingus (past relationship with choso)

CW: Attempted SA against MC at the end- HEAVY CHAP ooc for Suguru (He's awful)

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 12k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and has a poly lifestyle. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Chapter 4 - Masterlist

Chapter 5

Suguru’s fists clench and unclench as you watch in horror, as Satoru says the one thing you know will push Suguru over the edge.

“You what!?” Suguru demands, snatching Satoru up by throat then, and Satoru smirks even as Suguru’s fist smashes into his pretty face.

“Suguru, stop!” You shout, running up then, trying to yank your huge ex boyfriend off your- what was Satoru!?- your… yeah. Satoru.

“It’s fine, baby, let him have his fun.” Satoru’s words are so easy going, as if his nose wasn’t dripping blood. Suguru scowls back at you over a shoulder, as you’re trying to pry stupidly strong muscles off Satoru’s body.

“Suguru, I came here. He didn’t drag me. It’s on me, be mad at me.” He scowls even deeper, as Satoru is grinning, like he’s fucking won.

“You let him cum in you?” He demands, and you feel ashamed, but only for a moment.

“You cum in Shoko?” Satoru asks, laughing when Suguru turns his attention down to him. “That’s all this is, you’re so mad I fucked her back in college. Can you get the fuck over it?”

“You knew how I felt.” He punches Satoru again, and you start to realize how far beyond you this was.

“So ya had to hit on her when I told you I saw her… ow fuck… at the damn bar huh?” Satoru flips his position now, holding Suguru in a headlock, and you blink in confusion at the words.

“You said she was hot as fuck, that meant I couldn’t hit on her?” Suguru’s words are strangled, Satoru is choking the ever living shit out of him, as you watch in a mix of horror and confusion.

“Who?” You ask, and Satoru’s bright blue eyes drink you in, as Suguru struggles in his hold.

“I saw you first.” He says, then suddenly he’s flipped back over, and Suguru’s over him, and Satoru’s the one in the head lock, struggling, pale skin turning red from how tight Suguru squeezed.

“You saw her, so the fuck what!?”

“When… When did you see me?” You ask softly, Suguru eases up for a moment, chocolate eyes not daring to look at you. Satoru coughs up a bit, now a droplet of blood is dripping down his lips.

“I told him I saw you working, and how gorgeous you were.” Your heart stops then, at his words. How!? How could Satoru have seen you and… “I was too…” He coughs again. “Scared to hit on you. So I told Suguru.”

“I just went to see her, I didn’t intend to have a connection. You act as if you had some fucking claim.” Suguru grunts out, and Satoru smirks over at him, as you try to process both of their words, as the masculinity raised way too high in this damn room, both of them still furious.

“You did it to get me back. You know I never talk about women, when have I fucking ever!?” Your heart is thudding in your chest so hard you think it will just pound right out of it, your throat tightening.

Satoru saw you first?

Suguru came on to you to get to him!?

Were you some fucking game to him?

“You’re so dramatic. I just wanted to see her too. Then I… clearly fucking fell for her.” Suguru says, but Satoru laughs, earning another punch, the sound of his fist connecting is sickening to your ears.

“Nah, you haven’t. You’d have never needed anyone.”

“So monogamy is the only form of love?”

“Didn’t say that, but your shit isn’t even poly, Sugu. It’s just one sided cheating.” Suguru scowls down at Gojo’s honest words, and you tense, expecting another hit, only for him to laugh then, grinning down at Satoru.

“You came in her, huh?” Suguru says, making you flush, wanting to get sucked in a goddamn hole. You hadn’t wanted Sugu to cum in you, and that was awful, wasn’t it? But Satoru?

Yeah you craved it.

“Sure did, Sugu. Her pussy milked it for all too.” Suguru’s red to the tips of his ears, as he holds Satoru down, pinning him to the grown, thighs straddling him. Satoru’s smirk dies soon though.

“That’s nice. But guess who took her virginity?”

The room is silent, like it’s taking a breath, and your heart constricts in your chest, as Satoru’s face drops, as his eyes look at you then, darker blue than you’d ever seen, pupils so dilated, his lips in a stern line. You feel mortified, that Suguru would share this, that Satoru looked so hurt, fuck he’d seen you first!?

“You. What. Now.” Satoru says quietly, and Suguru grins, leaning up, yanking out the pony tail that’s half out of his hair.

“Sure did. She’d not been with a man. She’s twenty four you know, so of course I showed her. You know, her first time? It was really good for her, don’t worry. Took my time with every-”

Satoru punches him so hard Suguru falls right off him, and then Satoru is the one straddling his best friend’s lap, as you continue to watch this fucking train wreck. God you couldn’t look away, as much as you wanted to, not when they were fighinng because of you, not when you could feel Satoru’s pure rage, not when Suguru shared something so personal.

“No way she was a virgin. You’re saying this to-”

“She was. Weren’t you, Princess?” You earn both of their eyes on you, and you gulp, as you feel a mix of embarrassment and disgust at the display.

“I was a virgin.” You murmur softly, and as Suguru chuckles, Satoru rages, punching him so hard you hear a sickening crack. “Satoru, I didn’t… I just wasn’t experienced. Please, stop… both of you. I’m not worth it.”

Your quiet words pause them for a moment, as Suguru takes your form in, slowly, all you’re wearing is Satoru’s shirt, you notice then. Messy, wavy hair with no makeup, Suguru hadn’t even seen you like this. You hadn’t felt comfortable enough not to have on some waterproof mascara, something. You wore lingerie for him. But now? You just look so…

“You took her virginity to get at me? What kind of sick fuck have you become, Suguru? What the fuck!” Satoru’s furious words bring you back to focus, as he punches Suguru right in the ribs, only for Suguru to take the top position again.

“Took her- ah- virginity because she’s hot. Idiot.” Your heart shatters, more than it had before. Suguru never had a fucking feeling for you, did he?

You were an idiot.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Satoru’s terse statement sends shivers down your spine, and you rush over to them, kneeling and touching Satoru’s arm, bringing his feral blue gaze to yours.

“Satoru, please. Enough.” You whisper, and you seem to break through to him, as he looks back down at Suguru. Both of them are bloody and bruising, panting and out of breath. “Suguru, I’m sorry I came here. It’s on me, though.”

“No, he manipulated you. I know what he does.”

“I never manipulated her, or Shoko, fuck she was just drunk and so was I. We didn’t even like it! Why can’t you let it go!?” His voice is so emotional it crushes you, as you clearly see you were always just a pawn in a game, for Suguru. It makes your skin crawl, as you remember him taking your virginity.

“Are you sure you’re ready, Princess?” He’d asked, so sweet and caring, and you nervously nod, clinging to his shoulders, eyes shooting up to his.

“I can’t do this if you don’t feel something back, Sugu. I’m so sorry if that’s corny, but I am… this is my first time.” Suguru pauses, his lips parting, then he nods, brushing your hair back gently.

“I’ll make it perfect, I promise. How couldn’t I feel something? You’re so beautiful, so sweet. I’ll make it so special.” He cooes at you, and you melt under him, under his handsome face and his gorgeous, lidded eyes. You gasp as his tip slides between your folds, something you’d never felt.

“Suguru…” You whisper, his lips capture yours then, so passionate like nothing you’d ever had, and all those worries are whisked away as he plays with you, as he touches you, as he kisses you. You’re wetter and wetter under his expert touch, as he takes you over.

“I’ll make it perfect.” He says again, then he’s sliding into you, making you gasp.

He did all that, and he didn’t ever care, fuck he did this to upset Satoru Gojo? You were nothing to him. Nothing.

You barely register that tears are pouring down your cheeks until they both are paused, looking at you now, Suguru looks actually resigned for just a moment, and Satoru looks infuriated. His gaze was psychotic, as if he’s on the cusp of doing something insane. All while you’re sobbing in front of them, unwillingly, unsure how to turn the tears off.

“You didn’t feel anything did you? You lied.” You sob out, looking right at Suguru, and Satoru finally lets him up, turning around, running his hands through his silken white hair, as Suguru sits up, holding his stomach, shaking his head.

“I did feel things. I didn’t lie.”

“Feel what, anger at Satoru? I get you didn’t know me, but my virginity was important to me. I really thought you-”

“If it was so important why so quick?” You gasp then, and back away, only for Suguru to clench his jaw, closing his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean, if you waited so long, why-”

“You really made me feel pretty, special. I thought… the way you treated me I thought you felt something.” You speak through tears, and shudder as Satoru punches his own wall, loudly then, not looking back at you.

“I did, Princess. I’m just angry.” Suguru sits up, cupping your face, but you tense, disgusted at the touch suddenly. “I fucked you because I wanted to. Not because of Satoru. I swear, why wouldn’t I? You’re gorgeous.”

“That was it, just my looks! You made it seem…”

“I mean I feel more now. It was too soon. I swear I felt something.” He holds your cheeks, and you shiver, you feel waves of nausea roll over you as you think of how manipulated you had been, as everything you ever thought comes crashing down. You hear Satoru sobbing and it crushes you.

“You did this all as a game. You think I didn’t have feelings, that it wasn’t special to me?” You swipe your tears away, choking on your sobs. “I kept it for something special, and you made me think it was.”

“It was. It was. I swear. You’re letting Satoru-”

“Just go, please. Just go. I can’t take anymore!” You stand up then, sobbing so hard you can barely control it, as the world shatters on you. Even after his cheating with Shoko, you hadn’t believed he started this all as a manipulation.

“Princess-”

“My virginity wasn’t a game! Or revenge!” You shove at him, smacking his hands away as he tries to grab at your shoulders. “It meant something. I can’t just get it back. You took that from me.”

Suguru has the grace to look resigned, his eyes shooting down to his own feet, his brows together, fists that are red clenching at his sides. “I do feel things for you, it wasn’t just pretending.”

“You took it under false pretenses.”

“I… I feel things. I swear I do. I’ll forgive all of this.” He takes your shoulders again, but you jerk away, shaking your head. Suguru glares now. “You think Satoru is honest, loyal? You’re in for disappointment.”

“I just wanted something real. I should have known, it was all too perfect, your words, everything. Like some performance but with my actual life.” You’re shaking from how hard you’re sobbing, Satoru’s hand is gripping the ledge of the fireplace, he won’t even look back, won’t say anything.

“It wasn’t a game. You’re falling for it, for him.” You scowl at his words then, as you look at Satotu’s well muscled back, at how tense he is.

“You should go see Shoko.”

Suguru glares, mouth thinning. “It was just play, she didn’t even feel like…”

“Oh so that’s it! She turned you down. So you’re left with me?”

“No! Fuck you’re frustrating.” He grips you bruisingly then, shoving you against a wall, and Satoru’s on you in a moment, shoving him off, glaring.

“Get out, Sugu. You’re not thinking clearly.” Satoru says, standing in front of you, Suguru’s eyes narrow.

“I’d never hurt a woman. I just…”

“Go. Just go, please.” You whisper, hands on Satoru’s back, and Suguru laughs darkly, giving you chills.

“You had no feelings if you could so easily go be with my best friend. Maybe you’re the one full of-”

“Go home.” Satoru says, cutting him off, and Suguru finally stomps out, slamming the door, soon you hear the rev of his sports car, and you’re shaking against him, clinging to his strong back, tears hot and sticky on his sweaty skin.

It’s silent for a moment, until Satoru turns to you, looking down at your face, and his eyes are furious, an insane blue you haven’t even seen, swollen in places from Suguru’s brutal fists. They’re so bright you have to blink rapidly, as his full lips part, and he’s shaking, his hands on the wall on either side of you.

“He took your virginity!?” You tense, looking down, feeling so fucking confused you can’t even process how you truly feel. You just nod. “It should have been me.”

“I… Satoru, I hadn't met you yet.” You whisper, blinking through a fresh set of tears, as he’s huffing over you. “Why didn’t you say… hi?”

He laughs, without humor, not meeting his beautiful eyes. “Why? Because you were so beautiful I couldn’t think. And yeah, I fuck pretty women. But you’re so goddamn gorgeous I was reduced to being some high school idiot. How could those loser men even get a drink from you!?”

His words eat you alive, your hands slide up his bare chest, his beautiful body, and you watch his abdomen contract from the touch. You struggle to form the correct words, licking your lower lip, sighing. “Satoru, I wish you did.”

It’s silent, as if the entire living room takes a breath it's been holding. You look at his bleeding lip, at his bruising and swollen cheek, and you hate it, you hate that you caused it. You gingerly touch his cheek, making him hiss. “You wish I met you first?”

“Satoru, if you had… I’d have been on my knees.” He gasps, at your stupidly vulnerable words, and you expect him to make fun of them, tease you, but he just stares at you, grip tightening on your waist.

“I’d have been on my knees.” He whispers, then he’s shoving up his shirt you wore, groaning as he slides two fingers in you, stretching you so much you cry out in pain at it. “I should have been the first.”

“Satoru…”

“It should have been me. The first. Me.” He grunts, then suddenly he’s picked you up, and your legs wrap around his hips, he’s kissing you, his blood tasting like iron on your lips,desperately, and your arms wrap around his neck, crying with him. “How were you a virgin!?”

“I never… I wanted it to be special.” You’re sobbing again, and he’s crying too, pretty tears glistening down perfect cheeks.

“I didn’t know, but now!? I’m so fucking…” He growls then, and he’s shoving his cock out of his sweats, blue eyes locked on yours furiously, then his cock is all the way inside you, and you scream out in pain at the stretch. “It should have been me.”

“Satoru… ah fuck, it hurts!” He scowls down at you, sliding out, you hiss a bit, but then he’s deep inside again, all eight plus inches snug in your cunt, hitting your cervix, and damn if you’re not soaking to accommodate.

“It should have been me.” He repeats again, and then he’s cupping your face with one hand, lips hovering, and you gasp for a breath, so full you can’t take it. “I saw you first.”

“Satoru…”

He’s fucking into you now, and your head falls back in pleasure, slamming into the wall, he won’t stop his relentless thrusts, as they bring you higher and higher, until you can’t function. You’re clinging to him tightly, as he kisses you over and over, blood all over your mouth. It should bother you but you don’t even care, you crave more and more of his hard cock, of his brutal, messy kisses.

“I’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget it.” He says, desperate now, and you just whine out, eyes fluttering shut, as he fucks you brutally againt the wall, your cunt is so wet it’s sloppy, you hear it echoing in the room along with the thudding of your back, brusingly against the wall. “Should’ve been… me. Say it.”

“You, you Satoru.” You whimper the words, and he’s groaning, pressing his bloody lips on yours and shoving his cock into your cervix, you’re screaming as an orgasm hits so hard it wrecks you. You can’t even think, your sore little cunt pounded by a furious Satoru Gojo, you can’t form a word, your brain is stupid, stupid.

Satoru’s gripping you so tightly with those big hands, his desperate breaths hot on you, and you’re twitching as you cum, as he’s groaning, white eyelashes fluttering shut at how good you feel. “Say it again. Say it, fucking brat. I need… it…”

“Should have been you.” You say again, then he’s gripping you so tight you can’t breathe, shoving his thick cock deep and brutal, until you’re cumming again. He bites your delicate throat, groaning out against it, and you can do nothing but soak his cock, boneless in his grasp.

“Me, me, me. Mine. Mine. Mine.” He’s whispering like it’s some fucking mantra, as he chases his own release, pumping you so full, white hot ropes of cum burning hot in your little hole. You’re twitching, pulsing around his cock, as it throbs inside of you. “Oh my fucking god. Fuck.”

“F-fuck, Toru I- ah!” You’re cumming just from that hot load, and he captures your lips in his, hungry, feral and desperate. And you fall into him.

You fall for him.

You’re sore, aching, throbbing… you’ve never done this much fucking in the short few months you’ve been sexually active, and fuck if you’ve ever done it so many times in a twenty four hour span. Satoru is pushing inside of you, oversenstiive as you swipe the tears from his pretty face, as his labored breaths are hot against your lips, and your eyes lock.

Should it have been him?

Had some choice been taken away from both of you?

Gojo’s POV

Your gentle fingers brush his tears away, as he’s still nestled inside your tiny little hole, the one he knows he didn’t prep, but you took it anyway, you sucked him right in. He sees the lines between your brows of pain, physical and mental, as his own head throbs with the force of Suguru’s hits. Your beautiful eyes glisten with a fresh set of tears, as streaks run red down your face.

Satoru’s heart is thudding in his chest, with rage, with anguish, with the need and desire for you, for every bit of you. He holds you in his arms still, hands firm on those thighs, feeling your muscles tensing, your legs twitching with aftershocks, he presses his fingers in, gripping even tighter, as your eyes lock.

Satoru should have been your first.

Not just because he wants to claim you, and of course he fucking does, he wants you more than anyone has ever wanted someone. He knows it, this all consuming need, that drives him insane, but now he wishes he was for a different reason. For the anguish in your voice when you learned Suguru hadn’t been in love, or at the very least had feelings.

He heard it in your sobs, as he took something so special from you, something he’d never shared with Satoru. Satoru wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He knew Suguru was still getting back at him, but this was a step too far, and he doesn’t know how to justify his best friend, not when he’s hurt you so much.

Why couldn’t Satoru have just spoken to you!?

“S-Satoru… I’m really- mnh- sore. Can I…” You whimper a bit, and he realizes how badly you must hurt, you’re small down there and he’s fucked the shit out of you, several times in twenty four hours.

But he can’t control himself, he could fuck into you again, he’s already got blood pumping to his cock, as he looks at your gorgeous face, the one that haunts his every dream. Haunts his every waking moment, staring at such perfection and having wished it could be his. And now, here you were, taking him so good, little nails clinging to his bare neck.

“Can’t handle good dick huh?” He says gruffly, he wants to just say how he’s sorry that he’s hurt you, but he still is a goddamn idiot, and terrified of the overwhelming feelings.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You clearly know I’m inexperienced now. So no, I can’t handle this much, especially… no prep.” You’re flushed, all over your face, your throat, as you speak, and he sighs.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking just then.” He eases out, as you blink in surprise at him, and he helps you down on wobbly legs. “Did I hurt you?”

“Um, a bit but it’s okay. Just more… sore than anything. I still really liked it, I promise.” You reassure him, does he deserve this though? Does he deserve anything about you?

Satoru gently caresses your hair out of the way, tucking it behind your ears, brushing his hands down your face softly. “I was furious. I didn’t know.”

Your eyelashes swoop low over your eyes, casting shadows down your face, and he watches you nervously bite that lower lip. You are trying to slow your breathing, your shaky hands gently holding his wrists. “I guess he was hurt by what you said and wanted to hurt you, too. This is all my fault-”

“No the fuck it’s not.” He speaks through gritted teeth, shoving you against that wall, the one his friend had, but you don’t seem afraid of Satoru, no you look up at him with pure desire. And something more. Something he shouldn’t hope for. “I’m fucking sorry he did that.”

Your tears flow again, and you swipe at them with the back of your hand, narrow shoulders heaving with the labor of holding in your sobs. “It wasn’t your fault, either.”

“Wasn’t it!? Wasn’t it? It’s all because-”

“No! You don’t give him excuses! So what if something happened, it doesn’t give him a right to do all of this. You give him such leeway and tear yourself down.” You’re shoving at him, and your words hit him slowly, as he realizes what he has been excusing, allowing. He gulps, looking down.

“He was right, I have never been a loyal boyfriend.” You watch him with your chest heaving, now your little nose is all red, as you rub it again, before burying your face against his chest.

“I don’t care how you were. And we’re not dating obviously, but I appreciate you being honest about it.”

“You’re too fucking good for me. You know you’re too good for both of us, right?” You shake your head, and he holds you closer, wincing at his sore ribs. Suguru may have cracked one.

“If you were… would you be loyal?”

“Yes.” He says without hesitation. “If you were mine I would never look at anyone ever again. I already have trouble seeing anyone but you.” His vulnerable words make you gasp, as you look up at him longingly. “Hate you so much, it takes so much effort you know.”

You giggle then, and he just glares, but inwardly he loves that laugh, he loves your cute little smile, the way your nose scrunches, the way your eyes crinkle just a bit at the corners. Fuck, it lights up your beautiful face, and he should tell you that, but he can’t… he is so afraid… he hates himself. He hates you. He hates what you’re making him feel.

After so long of feeling nothing, you make him feel despair, anger, longing, desire, at times joy, and most importantly…

Love.

Is that what this gnawing, clawing feeling in his chest its? Love?

He felt it when he first saw you, surrounded by a sea of men and women, who seemed to hit on you equally. Fuck you’d been wearing this little pink crop top that hugged your breasts perfectly, a black choker to break up the endless pink, and a pink skirt with ribbons down the front. Your body was ridiculously hot, and you flaunted it too.

It’s why he never thought you insecure.

You were a mix of girly and goth, both two types of women he didn’t go for. You were a short little brat. You were young, and not just age wise, you were bright and cheery, giggly and bubbly. It had disgusted him, how happy you were, Satoru typically had a list of arm candy women on xanax and zoloft, stuck with old husbands and needing his dick, that’s what he was used to.

Not you.

Had he not noticed the times you’d frowned, looked lost, sighed, your shoulders slumping? Had he just thought you flirtatious, perhaps a bimbo if he’s honest, that was the vibes you gave. But you’re deep, intelligent, thoughtful, he constantly sees how much you care, how much you are thinking, how you analyze him.

How hard you tried when he was awful to you.

When he said the worst things. The most untrue things. All because he couldn’t handle seeing Suguru with you. All because he wanted you, decked out in pink everything, on his arm, giggling. It had eaten him alive. But now, here you are, and you’re in his shirt, and your face is bare, and you’re vulnerable, you’re wide open, clear as crystal glass.

Could Satoru open up? He’s so afraid to disappoint you.

“Satoru, please let me clean this up. And get some ice for this.” You murmur softly, fingers hovering over his face. He nods a bit, he’d usually argue with you or make some… comment, but he wants you to take care of him.

Fuck.

“All right, Nurse.” He teases, and you smile just a bit, corners of those lush lips pulling up, brightening his life. “I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

Satoru guides you to the bathroom, and grabs the first aid kit out of his cabinet, and hands it to you. You start taking out gauze, neosporin, antiseptic… you seem to know what you’re doing, he notices, as you look at him, and he sits on the edge of the bathtub so you can actually reach his face.

You take a washcloth first, rinsing it with cold water, then you gently dab his face with the cool towel, and he watches you, the way your eyes never leave his face, the way your hands are so tender and soft, as he inhales your scent, as you stand in between his spread thighs. His fingers itch to hold you, his mouth aches to tell you how much you mean to him.

Even if you don’t even know him yet, do you?

The tension is palpable in the bathroom as you both pretend like you’re not both thinking about what just happened. How Satoru had claimed you so thoroughly, how you gave in so easily, even though he didn’t prep you, even though he hurt you, even though he shouldn’t have. And you’re not even upset, it was as if you wanted it, the way you came so hard around him.

Was it still trickling out of your tight little cunt, he wonders, looking at your chest now, hidden under his shirt, but he watches nipples perk up when he gently rests two hands on the jut of your hips. He doesn’t do anything else, as you’re cleaning the cut above his eyebrow, but that touch alone sends shockwaves through both of you. You’re biting that lower lip, suppressing a cry.

You’re focused on taking care of him.

You bend over, hands shaking a bit as you pull out the neosporin and the band aids. Satoru watches your every move, as you dab the antiseptic on his cuts, the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the way your lips press into a thin line. Your sweet breath rushes over his face, you fill his every sense, as you take care of him, in a way he’s not sure he deserves.

Satoru Gojo feels something inside him, something tightening in his throat, something warm spreading through his chest as you work on him. It’s like you’re not just fixing his face, but fixing him, with each careful dab of a cotton ball, with each breath you take. Neither of you even speak, you don’t have to, you speak so beautifully with each touch, each movement.

Could you fix him? Was he too fucked for this?

Even now, all he can think about is sliding back inside that tight cunt, but first he’d finger his own cum out of you, he’d lavish the taste of both of you up on his tongue, softly, sweetly, until you’re begging for him again. Fuck Satoru hadn’t even been gentle with you, he’d gone easy here and there, but he’d not made love to you, not like you deserve.

If he did he’d be completely ruined, he’s already so far gone now, all he can think about is claiming you, making you his in every way. He’d put babies in that flat tummy, fill it up round with him, he’d tell you to stop working, he’d keep you home and take care of you, and lick that cunt every goddamn day if you let him. He’d pump you so full of cum you couldn’t leave.

His thoughts consume him, and you wince, making him realize he’s pressing his fingers harshly into your hipbones, he eases up just a bit, blinking and looking up at you, still meticulously caring for his face. Now you move to his chest, with your cool, soft hands, brushing little bits of antiseptic here and there.

When you’re done, he swallows, his throat dry, and he has nothing snarky to say, he has nothing mean to say, to pretend with you. No, he’s too enthralled in you, in everything about you, his heart is hurting so goddamn much, his cock is already hard under his sweats, he’s consumed by you.

It’s all you.

“Thank you.” He manages to say, and the surprise on your pretty face says it all, your lips parted, your eyebrows high with shock.

He says nothing further, either, he just slides his hands off your hips now, to run down the soft stomach he wants to fill, feeling it tremble under his touch, before those hands land on your thighs, brushing little circles. Satoru hadn’t been very gentle with you, had he? Not in any way, but you respond the same, whether he’s choking that pretty throat, or he’s brushing a delicate touch.

You want him, clear as day.

Now you ease a bit, exhaling, and you start kissing every bruise you see on his chest, feather light touches of perfect lips setting his skin on fire, and he’s helpless to it, all he can do is sigh in pleasure, gripping your waist tightly. You’re not doing it sexually, you’re being sweet, caring, considerate, as if you want to erase the hurt, and fuck if you don’t actually do that.

Satoru would take any pain for you.

Your POV

Satoru thanked you. He thanked you, with no other comments, with nothing sexual, no he thanked you softly, his big blue eyes so vulnerable then that they broke you, broke your fucking heart. The tension you feel as you’re between his long legs, as his huge hands take over your waist, as you feel his cool breath against your cheek, as you kiss his skin…

It’s insane, what’s left unspoken, fuck only two words have been said as you’ve worked over him, cleaning him up the best you can. Two words that make everything hazy, the husky tone they’d been spoken with. Fuck if it doesn’t take over everything that you are, fuck if you don’t love standing over him, feeling him so vulnerable, so raw and real with you for once.

Your heart aches.

Your pulse flutters.

Your pussy throbs.

All for Satoru Gojo.

You swallow now, heart racing, and you kiss his forehead sweetly, something you had ached to do, hands gently holding his broad shoulders. Fuck if you didn’t wanna make it all better, if you didn’t wanna fill this void he so clearly has, to make him feel so much more than pain. Could you?

“You’re welcome, Toru.” You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, and he reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip softly. The gesture is gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier actions, and it sends a tremble down your spine.

His bright blue gaze locks onto yours as you brush his snowy white hair back, and it’s like he’s searching, pleading for something unspoken. Fuck, you want to give him anything when he looks at you like that, when his usually tense, sculped features get soft for just this moment. He looks youthful, not that Satoru didn’t look stupidly young, but it was this… softness to him.

You want to be the one to make him feel whole, to fill the gaping hole in his chest that he tries so hard to hide, but fuck if you don’t want him to fill that hole in you now, the chasm that has grown deeper. But do you know each other? Are you just going to get burned again, like you had with Suguru?

The difference is, he’s real, he’s so real with you. He’s not pretending, he’s not whispering sweet words in your ear, if anything you feel him actively holding back. You both just stare at each other, it should be awkward, right this silence? But it’s not at all, you both don’t need to speak.

You lean in, your lips brushing his, tentatively at first, then with more pressure, as if you’re trying to memorize the feel of him, the taste of him, afraid of how long it would even happen. These kisses that consume you, the ones that left blood on your mouth earlier, and you hadn’t cared, no you wanted more. You could not get enough of his kisses, especially these softer, newer ones.

Satoru’s hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. It’s messy, needy, full of desperation and longing, and you can feel it, the heat of his desire, the way his tongue sweeps into your mouth like he’s trying to claim every part of you. And you want to be claimed, you want to be his, you wish so badly he had been your first in every way.

You wish he’d just said hello to you.

You wish you met the real Satoru Gojo, and not this dark, guarded version of him, not the mean version of before, but you would take him like this, fuck you’d take him mean, if it meant you could feel this forever. This consuming need to be claimed fully by him, you throw any sense of feminism out the fucking window for him.

He fills your void, the deep one that Suguru had caused, through his careless actions, the ones that clearly also hurt Satoru. It’s clear as day that the virginity comment had made him insane, as he’d roughly taken you on that wall, and damn if you weren’t still in pain, but you could go again, you would let him destroy you, if only that meant he’d touch you.

Look at you.

Hold you.

Kiss you like he is now. The kiss is broken only by the sound of your own moan, a soft little whine of pleasure that slips out as his hand slides down your body, cupping your bruised ass, reminding you of how he’d taken you so fiercely against the wall. It’s like a brand, a mark that says you’re his, and it makes you want him all over again, despite lingering pain.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He whispers, leaning back and staring up at you, and you can feel his regret.

“It’s okay, Satoru. I’m okay.” You murmur, standing closer now. “I’m fine, really, you’re much more hurt than me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He blinks back emotion with snowy white lashes, and you shake your head, caressing his shoulders, hating how they’re bruising before your eyes.

“You didn’t. Promise. I’d go again.” He smirks finally, the serious moment dissipated for a moment.

“So slutty always for me, aren’t you?” His words send a pang of desire, resonating in every way through your sore body. You nod, shyly, and he huffs a bit, his chest heaving. “She needs a break, I really have been wrecking her.”

“Cocky little shit.” He chuckles, then gasps, holding his stomach, and you frown at that, concerned.

“Hospital maybe?”

“Nah fuck that. I have pain killers from back in the day getting some root canal thing, can you grab ‘em? Under the sink.” You bend back down, rummaging through prescriptions now.

“Root canal? Your teeth are so pretty.”

“I have a sweet tooth. Bad. Must be why I love tasting that pussy.” You’re blushing hard core, thighs shaking as you stay squatted down, and you peek over the cabinet at him, and his charming smirk.

“You’re too much. Swear.”

“I know baby that’s why it hurt you so bad.”

“Toru! Tell me what I’m looking for.”

“Should say percocet.” You find the bottle still relatively full, and pull it out, pouring one into your hand and handing it to him. He holds his hand out more. “Stingy nurse, gimme two.”

“Oh fine. Let me get some water.” You run to the kitchen, noticing the disarray of the clean house after Satoru’s fight, but you shake it off, running the fancy silver faucet and filling a glass for him. You come back and hand him it, but he just hands you the pills back. “What?”

“Give 'em to me, nurse.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head then. “What, let a hurt man enjoy a fantasy.”

“Oh fine, open up.” He opens his mouth, that tongue that does insane things to your body and psyche sticking out, and you pop a pill on there, white and oblong. “Close and drink.”

He does exactly as you order, while one of his hands grips your bruising ass tightly, making you feel a mix of desire and pain. Desire and pain, it was all you can think to describe what you’re feeling lately, what you feel for Satoru Gojo. In the brief moments where he’s like this, opening to you, you feel so much hope, but it’s also terrifying and new.

What is this between you both?

It can’t be fucking normal.

It’s tilted the entire world on its axis, as if you don’t have the same gravity anymore, it’s all being pulled towards him, like he’s this black hole and you’re just matter circling around it. Fuck if you don’t want to just get sucked into it, to let yourself dissappear in it.

“Next one.” You manage to say, and he opens again, you place it on his tongue, and then you hold the cool glass for him, condensation cool on your palm, as his full lips sit on the rim of the glass. “Only you can make drinking water hot.”

You just said that huh?

He chuckles at that, holding his ribs then, and his endless blue eyes stare up at you, fuck you’re so close, you can feel the energy humming through you both. He carefully kisses your lips, sighing against your mouth, one of his hands still over yours on the glass.

“Can you stay all day? I’ll make it up to this pussy for being mean.” He teases, and for once it’s so genuine, it’s like he’s truly asking you to stay, and fuck you want to, you want to never leave. You brush his hair back, your nails raking gently across his scalp, and he moans, eyes fluttering shut.

“I wish I could. Work, ugh. Tonight is a big night because of the holiday tomorrow, too, so I will make good money.” He frowns a bit.

“You like being a bartender?”

“I went to school for creative writing. So.”

“Ooh… the shit degree.”

You giggle at that, nodding. “It is not one that’s gonna do me any good. It’s pretty on my wall I guess. I am doing this in the hopes one day I have a book that hits it big, but I don’t have much time with working.”

“I didn’t know you wrote.” He says softly, and you nervously bite your lip, studying him carefully.

“It’s not like we ever got to know each other. Um… aside from physically now.” You murmur, feeling yourself heat up as he studies you. “Satoru, this sounds stupid but, wanna go on like… a date?”

He blinks then, and you feel you’ve gone too far, you’ve overstepped surely, you don’t even know if he-

“You asking me out, short stuff?” He pulls you against him, wincing at the pain on his chest, but he doesn’t let you pull back. You nod, tentatively. “Couldn’t wait for me to ask, huh?”

“I just think we owe it to ourselves to get to know each other. I mean clearly you know my body-”

“Perfect body.”

“Toru…” You’re melting, at those words from him, you struggle to remember what you were even thinking. “Thank you. But, like let’s go on one. If you want… if you just want it to be sex, I get it. But I think maybe we should try? Go ahead and laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, that shit hurts right now.” It’s your turn to laugh, earning a glare from him. “Okay, a date. When and where?”

“Can we go to a movie? Out to eat? Normal date things.”

“Boring.”

“What!”

“Mmm, I’ll plan it. And I’ll pick you up, can’t have you embarrass me in that terrible beetle of yours.” You glare back now, and he’s smirking so charming you can’t even stay mad at him. “Be nice to me and I’ll buy you a car.”

“What!? Crazy talk. Stop that. I make good money, not Satoru Gojo money but good enough.”

“Mmhmm. So get your little ass ready to leave, before I pay you triple what you make to let me fuck you all day.”

Fuck.

***

Satoru’s words linger in your mind that night, as you start your shift at the nightclub you work at, with your best friend Choso. Choso and you had been friends for a couple years now, both having the same shifts, he always protected you from rowdy drunk men, and you protected him from some of the thirsty girls.

Choso was gorgeous, tall, he had tattoos and piercings and dressed goth, a contrast to your bright pink, a clash of aesthetics. Women went crazy over him, and why not, he was beautiful. He was also quiet, smart and sweet. He'd even been the only man you'd had any experience with until now.

Six months ago

“Choso… um are you sure? You don't want me to do anything back?” You both closed the bar that night, and Choso shocked you, asking if he could eat you out. Out of nowhere. As a friend!?

“You look like you could use some relief, Barbie.” That was his nickname for you, the first time he met you he said it, and it stuck. “I’d be lying if I didn't say I'd love to give it to you. I can just finger you if you're uncomfy?” He's holding you, whispering in your ear, as he's gently caressing your pussy over your pink lace panties. You're soaking them under his touch.

“I've never really… I'm a virgin, Choso.” He pulls back, black brows raised, his lazy amethyst eyes drinking you in.

“A virgin? You…”

“I've been with a couple girls but we didn't go that far. Um. I've not done anything but kiss men.” He exhaled, blinking a bit and you gasp when he presses his lips on yours, he tastes so sweet, his lips pressure perfection. You grind your hips up eagerly.

“I was just going to please you, little Barbie, I wasn't going that far. I wouldn't do that, not in a relationship myself.” You exhale, running a hand around the back of his neck. Choso had his hair done up in pigtailed buns and fuck if he wasn't stupidly cute with them.

“I don't wanna ever ruin our friendship. You're so important to me.” He truly was, you all took care of each other, he was your Wednesday Addams to your Bianca Barclay. You'd held him as he cried over his breakup of someone he loved. He held you as you got rejected by your crush. You all watched movies and played video games. You love him to pieces.

“It won't, ever. Just let me take care of you, okay?” You nod eagerly, as you all stand in the break room of the eerily quiet bar, and then Choso is on his knees, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes, asking for permission. 

“Yes, please. Um… tell me if I shaved good?” He laughs a bit, you can tell he's as nervous as you. Choso has only been with two girls from what he's said. He slides your panties down your thighs, exhaling as he sees you, and you go to close your thighs, so embarrassed, but he holds them firm, shaking his head.

“You're so beautiful down there. I promise.” You blink back emotion, then gasp when he kisses you there. “You missed a little.”

He spreads your lips open, looking inside, as your thighs are on his shoulders and you're now sitting on one of the chairs. You giggle. “Did I now?”

“Need me to shave you, barbie? What's a bestie for? Oh wait… this.” He flicks his tongue up your slit, and you cry out, back arching at how good it feels. “Getting the homie off.”

“Choso! Ah… oh my… Choso…” His tongue ring hits your exposed clit, and you're soaking his face at the sensation, as the ball of it flicks up and down the underside of your clit.

He's moaning as he sweetly drinks you up, as his tongue lavishes you up, his thick finger teasing your entrance, until it sinks in, and your wetness pours down his endless amount of black rings. He's doing things that you've never felt, and you're too wet. Too…

“Choso I'm sorry, I never get this… it's too messy.” He chuckles at that, looking up at you with that sexy face. Fuck he's your best friend what are you doing!?

“It's hot, I promise. I like how wet you are.” He murmurs and you're flushed, looking away for a moment.

“Promise you're eating me out as a friend?” He smirks, nodding, kissing you for a moment, and you taste yourself on him. “Can't lose you.”

“You won't. You're my best friend. And fuck if your pussy isn't the yummiest thing I've tasted. Can I continue Barbie?” He's smirking, his soft, quiet voice soothing as his finger slides back in, making you throb around it.

“Yes, please.” You cry out as he works a finger, hitting the little spot that you've not found yet, you see stars as his tongue ring is flicking your clit, and you're yanking his pigtails now, screaming out as he lazily pushes you over the edge.

He drinks you up, as a best friend of course, and you're grinding on his face, as a best friend.

“Ch-Choso! Best friend-ah- ever!”

Present day 

So you may have sucked his dick as a friend (well, well before you met Suguru of course) and he may have ate you out again, as a friend. Maybe a few times. But both of you never took it too far, and somehow you did stay friends, though of course things were a little different. You all never touched again after Suguru, you both had no problem just being friends again.

It was one of the things that made you think you could be poly with Suguru, being able to have fun but not have feelings exactly. But Suguru clearly had feelings for Shoko, and now you had feelings for Satoru, and all in a span of a couple days, you've been with two men at once, and you've had your heart crushed. But then… also there is blooming feelings for toxic, insane Satoru Gojo now.

Fuck.

When you met Suguru Geto, Choso hated him on sight, and you really weren't sure why. When Suguru asked you out, and you told him, as you always did, he's your best friend, he was tense. He'd been out smoking a cigarette as you'd both talked that night, and now his words make sense.

“Something not real about him, Barbie. And I want you to date, to be happy, I mean I'll miss tasting you-”

“Choso!”

He flicked his cigarette with black nails, smirking. “It'd never work with us Barbie. You're too pink.”

“And you're too emo. Gerard way of the modern era.”

“Just be careful. I can't place what it is. But if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass. Yeah?”

“Love you, Cho.” You kiss his cheek, and he hugs you with one arm.

“Love you, Barbie.”

“Promise he's a good guy. He makes me feel so beautiful and special.”

“Well good, you should. You are.” He taps your nose and pouts a bit.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just worried about you, Barbie. He seems experienced and you're not. You're younger too. Just take care of yourself with him.”

“That sounds so eerie to say, Cho.” He flicks his cigarette out, sighing and looking down at you.

“I hope I'm wrong.”

He wasn't wrong. Fuck he was so right, but he didn't even know one tenth of what was actually happening. Now he pinches your waist just a bit, giving you a soft smile before flipping a bottle in talented hands, to the oohs and ahhs of the ladies at the bar currently.

“How are you, Barbie? Everything okay?” He shouts over the loud music, blaring so loud it vibrates your body. You sigh, nodding. He frowns. “You’re lying.”

“I’ll talk about it later. Promise.” You put a hand on his strong shoulder, and he sighs too, nodding.

“You better.”

The shift is busy as fuck, brutal, as endless amount of drunk people come up and your wrist hurts from shaking drinks. You’re making bank though, many people are tipping, and certain men always tip well, chit chatting with you. You carry on as if everything is fine, brushing sweat from your brow and then luckily one of the girls who also works comes in.

“Take a break, love.” She says, and you smile gratefully. You step back to the break room, sliding exhausted into the chair there. Choso is in there before you know it, shutting the door behind him and sitting next to you.

“Hey Cho.” He smiles a bit, dark eyes taking in your exhaustion.

“Hey Barbie. Miss you. How's the boyfriend?”

“Ugh. That.” Choso blinks long black lashes at that, tilting his head curiously at you. “We’re done.”

“What? That’s so fast since you just said shit was perfect … you just said you loved this guy?”

You bury your face in your hands, grimacing. “He was so fake, like everything about him was some lie. Some game.”

“The poly stuff got confusing?”

“Shit, you could say that. So… okay we all played, I played with a guy too.” You’re blushing, and Choso smirks a little at you.

“Your body count is two now?”

“Oh gosh. Yeah.”

“You’re growing!”

“Hush.” You shove at him, giggling a bit at his wiggling brows. “Okay so he also brought a girl, but she’s his like high school/college love!?”

“What, why bring her then? That’s messy.”

“Yeah. And at about four am I heard them fucking.” Choso grimaces at that. “He was saying she was ‘the most perfect’ and he was supposed to be in bed with me.”

“Holy fuck, are you serious?”

“Mmhmm. So… well Cho, I fucked his best friend.”

Choso bursts into a throaty laughter, hand on his forehead as he studies you curiously. “What? My little Barbie is that savage?’

“Sure the fuck am. But I didn’t do it to get him back, it was… I don’t know, I really felt something with him. But, he’s kinda a psycho.”

“Is this the mean one? The asshole?” You nod, and he rolls his eyes, sinking his long body into the chair now. “You have shit taste, Barbie.”

“Hey, I sucked your cock you know. So.”

“Shit taste.”

You break out into laughter, and fuck it feels good, to talk to someone, after having been trapped in such an insane situation for the past forty-eight hours. Fuck your whole life has flipped upside down. Choso takes your hand then, brushing his rough thumbs gently on your knuckles, showing his support.

“What are you gonna do? Tell me you’re done with Suguru.”

“I’m done. You were right about-” The door opens then, and Suguru Geto walks in with the girl taking over for you. Choso stands, the chair screeching on the old wooden floorboards as he does, standing right in front of you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Choso’s protecting you from Suguru’s view, and you tense as you hear Suguru’s voice, hearing the girl skirting away. She couldn't know you all broke up.

“You fucking her too?” Choso walks up to Suguru then, yanking him by his fancy shirt, big and broad as he stands next to him, damn near bigger than Suguru. You stand up now too, earning Suguru’s dark gaze, his smirk.

“I’ve never had sex with her, but if I were lucky enough to, I wouldn't cheat on her, wouldn’t down her. Who the fuck do you think you are?” Choso speaks through gritted teeth now, and Suguru frowns at that.

“I came to talk, I’m sorry. You’re clearly in love, huh?”

“I swear to God-”

“Cho, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him.” You come to put a gentle little hand on Choso’s strong back, he turns to you and softens instantly, shaking his head though.

“No. Can’t let you alone. Don’t trust him.” Suguru holds up his hands.

“Just came to talk. She’ll be all yours in a few minutes.” Choso lets him go, then looks back to you, his full lips tense in a thin line.

“I’m right here if you need me, Barbie.” He pats your head and you hug him, smiling gratefully, before he shoulder checks Suguru, shutting the door behind him quietly, despite his clear anger.

Now you’re left with him, with Suguru Geto.

His face is a little swollen in places, and there’s a cut on his lip, but relatively he escaped the fight okay. He puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at you then, and his expression is unreadable. You feel uncomfortable with his gaze, with being alone, but you don’t show it, you stand tall, shoulders back, chin notched up.

“What is it, Suguru?” You ask softly, and he takes a couple steps to you, until your feet are almost touching.

“I came to talk some sense into you. I know you’re hurt, but you’ve now hurt me as well, and I just want to fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“So are you aware your best friend loves you?” You roll your eyes, you hear this a lot, no one can seem to understand the bond you both have.

“We are best friends.”

“Never did anything?”

“We did before I met you. Nothing since. Unlike you, I abided by all of your stupid rules you never followed.” Suguru glares now, and he’s even closer, until you can feel his breath on your skin. What once excited you now turns you off.

“Satoru is always going for what I want, this is no different. Do you really think he wants you?” Suguru’s intent is clear, and it hits its mark, you feel it like a punch to the gut, like the air is sucked out of you.

“What… does that mean?” You manage to ask, and he smirks then, caressing your cheek and filling you with nausea.

“Look at where you work, what you drive, where you live. Do you think that is acceptable to someone like Satoru? The Gojo clan is the richest family in Tokyo.” His words hit hard, but you just shove them down, you don’t even know Gojo yet, and you have to give him that chance.

“You’re just upset, and want to hurt me more.” You murmur, and he chuckles, but it doesn’t reach those exhausted eyes. “Go home, get some sleep. Have you slept?”

“No, I haven’t, I can’t get my mind off you.” He’s leaning in too close now, so you stop him with hands to his chest, he looks down at them with a raised brow.

“You should have sucked it up and cuddled. Wouldn’t be here, would we, if you could keep your word.”

“You’re a lot more unforgiving than I thought.”

“Am I, Suguru? I let the first time with Shoko go, the ignoring me part, the clearly lusting after her part. I let the night with Satoru go. It wasn’t until you directly ruined every rule you ever made that I finally left. I’d say I’m pretty forgiving.” His brows go lower over his eyes, as his fists clench at his sides.

“Should I not have stared at or enjoyed Shoko?”

“I didn’t say that-”

“You’re so narcissistic.” You snort in laughter at that.

“Me!? Me!” You can’t control the laughter, as you see he’s dead serious, projecting himself onto you as if that could work. “That’s rich, Suguru. Me, narcissistic, that’s such projection.”

“You so badly want to be the prettiest.” You shake your head, as his words try to stab at you, but you choke it down, stepping closer to him now.

“Not at all, but in a relationship you are supposed to feel that way, you are supposed to feel the most desired. It doesn’t mean other women aren’t beautiful, and I had no problem with the other girls and you. So you can say that all you want, but it’s false and you know it. Now, can you let me get to work?”

You go to push past him then, and he’s gripping your waist tightly, making you wince as his fingers dig in, and he’s looming over you, mouth on your ear. “Ah, was it the fact that I was too easy with you, too sweet? Did you need to be treated more like a slut like Satoru does?”

“Suguru, don’t… don’t please.” You whisper, and he chuckles, wrapping one arm around your waist and pinning your back on him.

“You’ll see Satoru isn’t loyal, that he doesn’t even care for you like that. You’re just a game to him.”

“Like I was to you!?” You bite out, scowling back up at him. Suguru’s hand grips your breast, as he pins your arms down with that arm.

“I did have feelings for you, even if it didn’t start that way.”

“You finally admit it. Let me go.”

“I admit it started that way, but then I did truly have feelings. And look how quickly you drop it all for Satoru? And I bet you’re fucking your friend. And I’d still want you, even so.”

“I’m not! And I don’t want you to want me. I want you to go.” You struggle in his hold now, and he’s nipping at your ear, tickling it in the worst way, as you keep wriggling until he’s moaning softly, making you freeze.

“When Satoru’s bored of you, when he finds someone prettier, skinnier, taller, richer than you…” You freeze completely, feeling tears start to gather in your eyes now, as he tries to hurt you, as he knows where. “He’ll leave so quickly. And then I won’t take you back, you’ll be too damaged then.”

Now you’re sobbing, as he hits every insecurity you have, as you feel the room enclosing on you, and he lets you go, but you don’t move, you can’t move. Stuck by all the memories, of your parents leaving you so young, of being a loner in school, finally getting popular but never being wealthy in a rich city, never really fitting in. Of finally feeling loved by the man behind you.

The man who wrecks it all.

He exhales, as he realizes what he’s done, and his hands slide down your body slowly. “I love your body, I love your face, I don’t care what you make. Just three days ago he told you you’re not up to caliber. What’s changed? Nothing, you’re still not, and you won’t ever be.”

You continue sobbing softly, as he cooes at you, as Suguru Geto thrives off making you feel small, pathetic, and it works.

Were you good enough for Gojo?

Were you good enough for anyone?

“Oh Princess, even though you’ve been a little whore, I’ll gladly take you back, I know it’s just because I hurt you.” He slinks around you, and you’re immobilized by your pain. He smirks at the tears in your eyes. “I wonder if his cum is still slipping out, bet you liked it, didn’t you?”

“Suguru… I’m sorry for that, but- ah!” He’s slid his hand up your skirt then, roughly yanking your panties to the side, and you panic then, trying to back away, only for him to pull you in a tight grip, slipping a thick finger inside you. “Don’t!”

“Ah, you’re always wet, aren’t you? A slut hmm? Maybe I should fuck his cum out of you, put my own in there.” You wriggle frantically then, as the thoughts of him doing this hit you, no he isn’t like that is he?

No way.

“Please stop. I know you’re mad, but stop. Or I’ll tell Satoru.” Suguru scowls then, letting you go, wiping your essence off on your own skirt then.

“Tell him what? Hmm?”

“That you’re touching me when I said no. Leave, now, go get sleep and try to be… less of a piece of shit.” You tremble everywhere as you speak, shoving at him, then Choso walks back in, and Suguru’s mood changes, his eyes change, his lips… then you realize it.

He plays people.

To hide himself.

“Ah, guess our talk is over, Princess.” He brushes your hair back, making you smack at his hand, and then he turns to face a furious Choso, though he didn’t know what happened, he was right here, and Suguru just looks at you. “You’ve got like three guys after you, huh?”

“I don’t fucking like you.” Choso says, plain as day, and you smile a bit at that, tremulously.

“I can tell. Bye Princess. See you soon.” At that Suguru saunters out, and you nearly collapse, if not for Choso grabbing you.

“What happened? Please tell me. I’ll kill him if he-”

“Could you just hug me?” You whisper, and he gulps, nodding, wrapping you in his warm embrace, as you start to break out in tears.

What just fucking happened?

What had he…

“Please tell me, please. I’ll protect you.” Choso murmurs, and you hear the emotion in his voice. “You’ll always be my best friend, no matter what. Let me take care of you.”

“Oh, Cho… I… I…” You can’t speak, you can’t function, as he pats your back, and you don’t know if you can tell your best friend, you don’t know if you can tell anyone, you don’t even know if you’re good enough.

Did you deserve that?

“Barbie… please talk. Let me take you home?”

“Um… yes. Please.” Choso leaves for a moment, to gather both of your things and tell the boss, and your mind is blank, your heart is shattered, you can’t even compute what Suguru had just done. How he’d touched you. The cruel things he had said to you.

The horrible way they make you feel.

Your phone buzzes on the table, and with shaky hands you pick it up. You see it’s Satoru, and you exhale, at least it was not Suguru, but how could you tell him, would you even tell him, should you? Crush his hopes about his best friend, who had just touched you when you’d said not to.

Toru: Everything okay tonight? Miss telling you I hate you.

You manage a watery smile at that.

You: Bad night. I’m heading home early. I’ll talk tomorrow.

Toru: Do you need to come here?

You: No. I’m okay.

Toru: Fuck will you tell me you get home safe? So that I know I can tell you I hate you tomorrow?

Does Satoru care? You think so.

You: Yes, I will.

You set the phone down, and soon Choso is taking you home, quiet, giving you space, and you’re looking out the window, your hand hanging out gently, feeling the air pour between your fingers. You knew Suguru was just angry, but him touching you like that made you feel disgusting, and you can’t wait to wash it off.

How could you ever be with Satoru?

How, if that is his best friend? 

Would he leave you alone?

“Barbie… you can tell me anything you know.” Choso says, and you lean close to him, head on his shoulder for a moment.

“Thank you, Cho. Can I rest a minute?” He nods, and you do just that, for just a moment you shut your eyes, as the car zips through the street, as the wind blows through.

Could you tell him?

Could you tell anyone?

Suguru’s words won’t stop ringing in your head.

How would any of this be okay?

This was a rough one!!!! <3

Ao3: (I think it's back up lol)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58179796/chapters/148138651

please vampire gojo please one chance plsssplslsppsl on e chance

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GARDEN LIBRARY: WELCOME TO MAGNOLIA SPRINGS

disclaimer: i only post my writing on tumblr, ao3, & wattpad (@chiyokoemilia). if you see it anywhere else: please report them & let me know!

— gojo satoru

ᰔ SERIES ᰔ

chapters of us (architect gojo x bookstore reader)

follow my lead (prodancer!gojo x dancer!reader - college au)

romance on ice (proskater!gojo x competitive figure!skater reader)

heart of symphony (doctor!gojo x patient!reader)

ᰔ ONE SHOTS ᰔ

coming soon

coming soon

ᰔ HEADCANNONS & DRABBLES ᰔ

coming soon

coming soon

— geto suguru

ᰔ ONE SHOTS ᰔ

coming soon

coming soon

© chiykoemilia 2024: do not repost, translate, modify my works or claim them as your own.

---

almost done setting up my tumblr 🥹 soo excited to finally share more with the world 💙

---

gojo: when my wife is mad, i tighten the lids on all our jars so she has to ask me for help *sound of glass shattering in the kitchen* gojo: it doesn't always work, though

symptoms and causes | ch. 14

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

summary — he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart — and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

word count — 18.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, dark and mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, moral ambiguity, borderline insane behavior by all involved, heavy angst, panic attacks, (family) trauma, anger issues, fire incident, mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood, graphic injuries and medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey lovelies, we're back with another chapter !! didn't know when to cut this one so you'll get the whole thing in one go. beware this chapter is pretty angsty again and will contain some heavy themes. please read when you feel comfortable with it, i've updated the tw too. other then that, hope you enjoy (if that's the right thing to say to a heavy angst chapter lol).

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

"We can't go to Naoya's party."

"Why not?" Maki asked.

"Because he drugged her, maybe?" Yuta chimed in, backing you up.

"That's not even the main reason."

"It should be the main reason," Yuta.

"It's Satoru," you said, ignoring Yuta's comment.

"Dr. Handsome?" Maki asked.

"Yes."

"Why's that?"

"Because he'll be sad then."

"Sad?" Maki repeated.

"Yeah."

"You want to elaborate on that?"

You didn't look up from your work. "Not really."

"But what about Naoya's messed up face?" Maki pressed on.

"Maki, really?" Yuta groaned.

"Please take pictures for me," you said.

"Shh!" another student hissed, reminding you that you were in the middle of anatomy lab.

You sat at your dissection table, scalpel in hand, carefully slicing through the tissue sample in front of you. Beside you, Maki, Toge, and Yuta were similarly engrossed in their own specimens, their brows furrowed in concentration, despite the conversation whispered between you all.

"But I wanna punch him, key his car or whatever," Maki muttered under her breath.

"Feel free," you replied, still focused on your specimen.

"This whole thing was a stupid idea from the start," Yuta grumbled.

"Stupid," Toge concurred sagely.

"Oh, now you think so too, huh?" Yuta said, side-eyeing Toge.

"Anyway, what's up with Dr. Handsome?" Maki asked, redirecting the conversation.

"He's miserable," you said.

"You always say that about him."

"Because it always fits."

Suddenly, you felt an icy chill run down your spine, as if someone had just dropped an ice cube down your back. You didn't need to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

"Are you all quite finished with your chatting, or do you need another minute?"

Slowly, you turned to face your tutor, plastering on your most innocent smile. "Sorry Dr. Nanami, we're done."

"Perhaps you should focus more on your studies than on discussing your personal life. Maybe then you'd actually pass your exams." He gave the others a look that could freeze lava before stalking off.

"Ouch," Toge grimaced. "Brutal."

"He hates me," you sighed.

"Probably because you're so close with Dr. Handsome," Maki said.

"Definitely," Yuta agreed. "But you know, I heard he's not actually that bad. One of the seniors told me he's really supportive of his students, in his own unique way."

"So you're saying he's just pushing me to do better?" you asked, feeling a glimmer of hope.

"Nah, I think he definitely hates you," Yuta said, crushing that hope like a bug. "But hey, at least he's supportive of other students, right?"

"Thanks, Yuta, that's really helpful." You slumped in your seat, feeling like you'd just been punched in the gut. Then, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Maki smirked. "Well, speak of the devil."

[10:21 AM] Satoru: Can you come to my office after class? I have something for you.

You read the message, ignoring the few missed calls from your mother that lit up the screen. Pathetic, really. You knew you should call her back. But the wounds were still raw.

Satoru had helped you bridge the gap to her, for a moment, but you couldn't help but feel the old fear of disappointment flare up again, you had been disappointed so many times before. Each disappointment left scars on a heart that was barely able to recognize itself as such.

Satoru had helped you bridge the gap with her, momentarily, but the fear was a constant shadow. You've been let down so many times before, each time leaving scars on a heart that was barely able to recognize itself as such.

You'd call her back later.

Surely.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket.

─── ·✧· ───

After class, you stepped out of the auditorium into the bustling hallway. Maki, Yuta, and Toge fell into step beside you. The hallway was filled with the usual chaos of students rushing to their next classes.

"How about we go to the movies this weekend instead, or to some bar, just anything fun," Maki said. "We could check out that new horror thing everyone's talking about."

Yuta made a face. "A movie sounds good, but I'm not really in the mood for jump scares and gore. I'd rather keep my lunch down."

"What about that action movie that just came out?" you suggested.

"Action," Toge nodded approvingly.

"Sounds good," Yuta said.

"Wow, you people are really boring. But okay, action it is. Maybe we could grab dinner before the movie too," Maki added. "There's that new sushi place that opened up downtown."

"Oh yeah, I heard their food is really good," Yuta said.

"Alright, so it's settled then," Maki said. "Sushi and a movie this weekend."

But then you rounded a corner and stopped dead in your tracks. A cold knot formed in your stomach.

Sukuna.

There he stood, across the hall, leaning casually against the wall, engaged in conversation with some university staff members. Their laughter grated on your ears.

What?

Why was he back?

The ethics committee hearing is not scheduled for another month. Did Satoru know about this?

As if sensing your presence, Sukuna's gaze shifted, his eyes locking with yours. He watched you for a moment, his lips twitching into a slow, predatory smile. Then, he had the audacity to wink at you.

Without a word, you marched toward him, ignoring the bewildered look on the woman he'd been speaking to. Sukuna straightened, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his tailored suit. His chin tilted up.

"Look who it is," he drawled, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. "My favorite student."

"What are you doing here?"

He smirked, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. "Didn't Dr. Gojo tell you, sweetie?"

You glared at him, your jaw clenched, fighting the urge to wipe that smirk off his face. You didn't care that the entire hallway seemed to hold its breath, every gaze burning into your back. All you could see was him, standing there like he had every right to be here.

Sukuna continued, "I'm back for the ethics committee, of course. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason."

Maki cleared her throat from across the hall, the sound cutting through the tension like a siren. You suddenly became aware of the hushed whispers and curious stares surrounding you.

Lowering your voice, you turned back to him. "Can we have a word?"

Sukuna's smile widened. "In private? With you, always."

He gestured for you to lead the way, and you turned, walking down the suddenly quiet hallway. You could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on your back like a thousand tiny needles, the whispers already starting to circulate.

Reaching an empty classroom, you yanked the door open and gestured for him to enter. Sukuna sauntered in, his smirk still in place, as if he found the entire situation amusing. You followed, slamming the door shut behind you.

Turning to face him, you crossed your arms. "Alright, Sukuna. Cut the bullshit. What's your game here?"

He leaned against a nearby desk, his posture relaxed and infuriatingly nonchalant. "No game, sweetie."

"Don't you dare fucking call me that," you snapped.

"Why so fierce? I'm just here to do my job. And ethics lately became so dear to me."

"As if. You're just here to hurt Satoru, that's all you're after."

"Wow, you're losing your temper here a bit, aren't you?" He watched you for a second, then, a harsh laugh echoed through the confined space. "Oh, now I get it. Satoru must be using again, isn't he?

Your blood ran cold at his words, and you took a step forward. "Watch it, Sukuna. I'm warning you."

He pushed off the desk, closing the distance between you until he was mere inches away. "And what then?"

"You know damn well you're responsible for this."

Sukuna leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Oh, I think we both know it's not me who pushes him to the edge."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you could even think about what you were doing, your hand was moving. The sound of the slap echoed through the empty classroom, and Sukuna's head snapped to the side from the force of the impact.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Sukuna slowly turned his head back to face you, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. A trickle of blood slid from the corner of his mouth, and he raised a hand to wipe it away.

"Ha," he said, looking at the blood on his fingertips. "Looks like the kitten has claws." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if savoring the sensation. "You know, it's funny," Sukuna continued, his voice almost conversational. "Satoru always did have a thing for the feisty ones."

"Shut up. You don't know anything about him."

"And you do? I bet you don't even know half of it. Or do you know why he has all those scars? Do you know even the slightest bit about his past? I bet you don't. Because he doesn't trust you. Not like he trusts me." 

He paused, his head tilting slightly to the side as he studied you. "It's almost funny, really. Ever since you two got close, he's been slipping. Losing control. Returning to his old habits. It's almost as if you have a knack for breaking him. Just like his parents."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Feels awful to be the responsible one, doesn't it?"

You flinched, his words twisting the knife of guilt deeper. You wanted to pull away, to deny his accusations, but your body felt frozen in place. Your eyes searched his, desperate for some sign of deception, a hint that this was all a twisted game. But there was none. All you saw was a reflection of your own doubts, your own deepest fears.

"You know he's been stable before you came along, but now he's a mess. It's selfish, really. Clinging to him, dragging him down, all because you're so desperate to be loved. But how will you live with yourself, knowing he died trying to be something he's not, all for you?"

No, you thought. This isn't true. It can't be true.

But even as you tried to escape his accusations, a memory flickered to life. Satoru in that bathroom, his skin pale and clammy, his breathing shallow, the terrifying stillness of his body.

Your eyes began to burn.

"Poor thing." Sukuna's hand cupped your cheek, almost disgustingly gentle, his thumb brushing over your skin. You let it happen, a deer caught in the headlights. "You really are a fool, aren't you?"

His touch seared your skin, branding you with guilt, with shame. You wanted to deny it, to push him away, to scream that he was wrong, that you'd never hurt Satoru, you weren't the reason he overdosed.

You weren't.

You couldn't.

But then again, would that have happened if you weren't there? If you hadn't pushed him, hadn't demanded too much? You tried to speak, to defend yourself. But the words wouldn't come.

He's playing with you.

He's manipulating you.

You know it.

You know it.

You know it.

You know it.

You know it.

You know it.

But why was it so hard to fight back?

You had always been the strong one, the one who held it all together. With your mother's fragile grip on reality, with Satoru's self-destructive spiral, you had been the glue that held the pieces together.

You'd swallowed the bitterness, the fear, the crushing weight of it all, refusing to let it break you. So why the fuck couldn't you hold it together anymore? What was wrong with you?

Sukuna's smile was almost pitiful, his hand falling away from your face as if your touch was repulsive. "You're not good enough for him. You never were. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you'll both be."

With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty classroom, the sting of his touch lingering on your cheek. You scrubbed at the spot, as if you could physically erase the stain of his words.

You didn't want to believe him. You couldn't believe him. But as you stood there, watching him disappear down the hallway, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Maybe you were the one pushing Satoru to the edge, the one driving him back to the drugs and the self-destruction. And if that was true—

You didn't know what to do.

Suddenly, the air turned thick, suffocating. Your lungs struggled to draw oxygen, each inhale a desperate gasp against the tightening band around your chest. The world swam, blurring at the edges.

You slumped against a nearby student's desk, one hand grasping for support, the other clutching your chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat.

You closed your eyes, fighting for control, willing the panic to subside.

No.

Not now.

Not fucking now.

─── ·✧· ───

You stood rooted to the spot outside Satoru's office, willing your ragged breaths to steady. Sukuna's poisonous words still echoed in your mind. You wanted to push them aside, to focus, to compartmentalize, but they clung to you like a second skin, refusing to be ignored.

You fought the urge to turn and run.

But you couldn't. Not now.

You had to be strong.

Satoru didn't need to see your weakness, not when he was already teetering on the edge. You had to bottle it all up, bury it deep. You took another deep breath, forcing your shaking hands to still.

You can do this. You have to.

With a final, resolute inhale, you knocked on the door.

"Come in," Satoru's voice called from inside.

You stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. Satoru was sitting at his desk, his head bent over a stack of papers, his pen moving swiftly across the pages as he graded. His hair fell into his eyes, obscuring his face.

"You wanted to see me?" you asked.

Satoru didn't look up, his attention still focused on the papers in front of him. "Maybe I just missed you."

"Is that so?" You made your way over to his desk, halting before him, but he still didn't look up, his pen continuing its relentless journey across the page.

"Just a second," he said.

"Sure." You moved to sit on the edge of his desk, tucking your still trembling hands between your crossed legs, hoping to somehow keep them still. Your eyes wandered over the cluttered surface, taking in the stacks of papers, the half-empty coffee cups, the scattered pens.

Chaos. As usual.

Strange, how his chaos always seemed to bring you calm, how it made it easier to breathe, how it always felt like home, how being near him felt like home. You closed your eyes briefly, the trembling in your hands slowly subsiding.

Then, your gaze landed on a folder lying on the edge of his desk, a note scrawled across the front in bold, red letters, "urgent". Curious, you picked it up and flipped it open, your eyebrows rising as you scanned the contents.

"Are you switching your subject?" you asked.

"Huh?"

"This case here," you said, waving the folder. "Failing liver."

Satoru's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw the folder in your hands.

"Are you treating liver diseases now?"

Satoru's face paled, his fingers tightening around his pen. "It's an urgent case."

"Urgent?" You eyed the document again, scanning the patient's stats. "That's putting it mildly. Based on these stats, that patient is dying for sure."

"Wow, you're really empathetic for a future doctor."

"I'm just being honest. I don't see how anyone with that liver damage could survive. But the other vitals are pretty impressive for someone in their 50s. Strange." You paused, your eyes meeting his. "But why are you looking into that?"

Satoru leaned back in his chair, his shoulders slumping. "It's Suguru's uncle."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said, suddenly feeling ashamed for your, indeed, lack of sympathy. "I didn't know."

"It's okay." He sighed. "Do you think treatment is even worth considering at this point?"

You looked over the file again, chewing your lip. You wanted to give him hope, to tell him that there was a chance. But you knew, deep down, that it would be a lie.

"No," you said finally. "Based on these stats, there's no way this patient will survive, even with treatment. The liver damage is too extensive, even aggressive treatment would likely only cause unnecessary suffering," your eyes meet his, "It would be cruel to give them false hope."

Satoru let out a shaky breath, nodding. "That's what I thought."

Hindsight, they say, is 20/20.

Looking back, you should have known.

Should have seen it.

Maybe if you had paid more attention, you could have spared yourself the pain. But who can really blame you, between all those battlefields? They turn you blind against what's important.

A lesson learned too late.

You closed the folder. "I'm so sorry, Satoru. If there's anything I can do, anything at all—"

Satoru shook his head. "All good. I didn't want to burden you with that."

"You don't burden me."

Satoru closed his eyes for a moment and then stood up. He rounded the corner and made his way over to his briefcase. He rummaged through it for a moment before pulling something out and tossing it over to you.

You caught it reflexively, your fingers closing around a long, slender plastic pen.

"Strip off your pants," Satoru said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "The leg is best."

You stared at the plastic object in your hand. Turning it around, you read the label on the side.

Erenumab.

"You did not—" you began.

Satoru's lips curved into a small, knowing smile, a smile that never failed to make your stomach flutter. "It's 70 mg," he said. "Let's start with that and see how it goes."

He crossed the room to where you sat, his gaze locked on yours, studying your reaction. You met his eyes, your own wide. You knew that this medicine was rather new. Expensive, if insurance didn't cover it. A single dose cost more than some people earned in a month.

"You didn't have to do this for me," you said.

He smiled. "I told you, I'd do anything for you."

A lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow. But before you could fully process what he did for you, you found yourself lying on your back on his office sofa, your pants discarded and Satoru sitting between your thighs. 

With gloved hands, he gently parted your legs, draping one over his shoulder and the other across his lap.

He quickly disinfected a small patch of skin on your thigh, then deftly drew the 70 mg dose from the glass vial. Preparing the syringe, he held it up, carefully expelling any air bubbles.

"I think my arm would have been sufficient too," you said.

His lips curved into a smile. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

Hand steady and sure, he positioned the needle against your skin. You felt a brief, sharp sting as it pierced your flesh, followed by a cool, tingling sensation. And then it was over, the syringe empty and discarded.

Satoru stripped off his gloves and placed a tender kiss near the injection site, his lips soft and warm against your skin. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you said, your gaze fixed on the ceiling above.

Satoru's smile widened. "Good." He released his hold on your leg and rose to his feet to dispose of the empty medication vial.

"See you next month, then," he said, a playful lilt returning to his voice. "For your next dose of preventative migraine medicine. But don't be late. I hate when patients keep me waiting."

"Sorry," you said. "I got held up."

"Something important?"

You hesitated for a moment. "No." Slowly, you sat up, your eyes tracking his movements. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he replied as he threw away the gloves.

"I'm not going to Naoya's party."

Satoru paused, his gaze meeting yours, a flicker of surprise and relief passing over his features. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," you mirrored back, then stood up and pulled your pants back on.

"Suguru is in the lab right now. You want to join him? I think he's dissecting some cells today," Satoru said, changing the subject.

"Oh, I called him earlier. He said he's pretty much done—" Your words died in your throat as Satoru turned his back to you, a small plastic container clutched in his hand. He shook out a couple of pills into his palm.

One.

Two.

Three.

You should be numb to it by now, but each pill felt like a punch to your gut. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed dry, a practiced motion. Dread tightened in your stomach.

Turning back to face you, he asked, "You want to grab something in the cafeteria then?"

"Sure," you agreed, but your eyes were drawn to the two containers on the shelf beside him. Hydromorphone. You recognized it. But also Alprazolam. Your stomach lurched, the cold knot tightening even more in its pit.

"Since when do you take Alprazolam again?" you asked.

"It's—" His brows drew together. "It's just half a milligram."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't think I have to answer your question," he said, cold, dismissive.

Silence.

Why does it always end like this? A tragedy on repeat, forever at war. 

You locked eyes with Satoru, the familiarity of his blue irises suddenly chilling. It was as if a curtain had parted, revealing the same painful scene once again. You were the actress, trapped in a role you couldn't escape.

[SCENE START]

INT. SATORU'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON

SATORU stands opposite of you, his gaze unwavering, a storm brewing beneath his placid mask.

YOU stare back at him, your heart a battlefield of love and fear, poisoned by Sukuna's cruel whispers.

[BEAT]

Act I: Clash of Words

YOU (quiet) So we return to this familiar dance?

SATORU (confused) Return? To what, pray tell?

YOU This game of shadows and silence. You, building walls I cannot breach.

SATORU (dismissive) 'Tis but a trifle, a fleeting shadow.

YOU A trifle? You gamble with your very life, and call it naught but a fleeting shadow?

SATORU (averting his gaze) 'Tis my life—

YOU (interrupting) —to squander? To cast aside as if it holds no worth?

SATORU (voice low) That is not my intent.

YOU (voice trembling) Then speak plainly, Satoru! Unburden your heart, that I may understand the shadows that cloud your judgment.

[BEAT]

Silence reigns, a heavy shroud descends, Unspoken truths, where desperation contends. Sukuna's whispers echo, venom in the air, "He trusts you not, his heart you cannot share."

YOU (quiet) You cannot, can you? For even after all we have shared, you remain a fortress to me.

Satoru remains silent, his face a mask of stone. His eyes, once bright, now clouded and unknown.

[BEAT]

Act II: Aimed at the Heart

YOU (shoulders slumping) When did you plan to tell me of Sukuna's return?

SATORU He concerns you not.

YOU Concerns me not? Satoru, 'tis because of me you face this lawsuit. Sukuna's shadow looms over you because of me. And your solace in those pills, I know, is tied to my very being. How can you claim I am untouched by this?

SATORU (turning his back to you, pacing) 'Tis complicated, you know this well.

YOU Then speak, I implore you. Let me share your burden.

SATORU (stopping, facing you) This is my battle, my burden alone. I shall face it as I see fit.

YOU (desperate) Your way? By drowning in oblivion, feigning a peace that exists not? Silence breeds not tranquility, Satoru, but a tempest within. You wage war against yourself, and these pills offer no salvation.

SATORU (pacing) I know what I do.

YOU And so do I.

[BEAT]

YOU You cannot continue thus, Satoru. How can we speak of love, of a shared future, when you build these walls, shutting me out at every turn? This endless dance of closeness and distance, it tears at my very being.

Satoru averts his gaze, his eyes seek the floor, Each glance denied, a wound that burns and sores.

[BEAT]

Though wisdom whispers, "Push him not, beware," Your love, a stubborn flame, refuses to despair. Did Sukuna's curse unleash this beast within? This monster that destroys, that revels in sin? Trapped within this flesh, you cannot flee, from the darkness that consumes, that will not set you free. Its fangs bite deep, its poison spreads its blight, how can you escape this never-ending night?

YOU (frustrated) Gods above, you test my patience, you try my very soul!

SATORU (whirling around) And you test mine! Your relentless pushing, your ceaseless questions...leave me be! I shall handle this alone.

YOU (stepping closer) Alone? You isolate yourself, Satoru, and call it strength. But it is weakness—

SATORU (shouting) Silence, woman!

[BEAT]

Silence descends, a tomb upon his cruel decree. Your breath, a stolen gasp, a wounded symphony. In his eyes, a mirrored fear, chilling and unkind. His words, heavy with pain, a desperate shield for his mind.

Oh, this dance of despair, this endless, tortured play, One step towards solace, then cruelly snatched away. Two souls adrift, on a sea of crimson hue, Yearning to meet, yet poisoned, their love askew.

Storms rage within, a tempestuous, bloody fight, Armor clings tight, obscuring love's gentle light. Bound by fear's cruel chains, they stand apart, Poised to strike, to rend each other's heart.

If only understanding could pierce the gloom, If only love could blossom, banish fear's cold tomb. But fear, the monster, devours all it sees, A love born in beauty, now twisted by disease.

This battlefield of hearts, forever stained crimson, Unspoken truths, wounds that refuse to glisten. So the waves crash on, their fury unrestrained, A love unspoken, forever pained.

Act III: The Killing Blow

YOU (voice trembling) Is it comfort? This self-destruction, that none may reach you? That I may not?

SATORU (hollowly) Perhaps.

[BEAT]

Your heart, a wounded bird, beats in its cage, But Sukuna's words, a creeping, insidious rage. His lies take root, a darkness you can't deny, And hope's faint ember flickers, threatens to die.

You fight to resist, to break free from its hold, But doubt's cold grip, your spirit grows old. His words, a poison, seep into your veins, And the will to fight, it slowly wanes.

YOU (quiet) Do I bring you sickness?

SATORU I know not. The line between you and my sanity grows thin, fading fast, I fear.

[BEAT]

His words, a poisoned dart, strike true. You know their source, the scars he hides from view. You strain to remember joy's embrace, but pain's dark shroud obscures its face. How long, oh heart, can you endure, this torment, this love that's no longer pure? You turn away, a heart filled with lead, from pain too deep, words left unsaid.

YOU (voice thick with sorrow) 'Tis an ugly thing, to be truly seen.

[FADE OUT]

[BLACKOUT]

VOICEOVER (detached, critical) The playwright weeps, the actors take their bows. But empty seats, no cheers, the silence grows. A cruel hush descends, the play is done. Was the bloodletting to your liking, everyone?

[SCENE END]

─── ·✧· ───

"Suguru?"

You approached him cautiously, hesitant to intrude on his concentration. He sat across the lab, his tall frame hunched over a workbench, bathed in the dim glow of a lamp beside him. He manipulated a pipette, transferring liquids between vials with a steady hand.

"Hey," he said, his gaze still fixed on his task. "Didn't expect you here today. Sorry, the fun part's already over."

He completed the transfer, then turned to face you. Even in the dim light of the lab, the aftermath of the fight was etched on your face, impossible to hide — the tear tracks, the trembling jaw, the desperate attempt at composure that crumbled with each passing second.

Suguru studied you for a long moment. He didn't need to ask. He knew you well enough to know what was going on. Yeah, how ugly it is to be truly seen.

"What happened?" He asked.

You stood beside his workbench, chewing on your lip, your arms crossed over your chest, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Can we work on something?" you said. "Please."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "No. I can't. I need work...I need to focus on something, anything, or I think I'll fall apart."

The words spilled out. There was no point in pretending, not with him. His gaze had already seen through your facade. But it felt wrong. It felt so wrong to ask him for help, to use his feelings for you.

You knew he wouldn't deny you, not when you were unraveling before his eyes. The guilt of relying on him like this was a heavy weight in your chest. But you needed him right now.

Who else could you turn to? You couldn't tell your friends. Your mother was in her own world of grief. Your father was dead. You were alone. Utterly and completely alone.

"Please, Suguru. Can we just work?"

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before he finally nodded and peeled off his gloves. He leaned forward, his hand gently undoing the tight knot of your crossed arms. He took your hand in his, tracing shooting lines across the back of your hand.

"What do you want to work on?" he asked.

"The nanoparticles," you said, your voice still trembling. "We still need to narrow down the potential materials and targeting ligands, right?"

"Sure," he said with a strained smile. "Anything you want."

─── ·✧· ───

Days had turned into a blur since then.

Satoru tried to reach you — missed calls, unanswered texts, a voicemail you'd deleted without listening. It was only a matter of time before he showed up at your door, you thought. But nothing. He stopped. Perhaps you should be worried.

But you needed some distance, needed a little breather.

Suguru said he was okay.

You'd sneak into the lab late at night, working until exhaustion dragged you under, then slipping away before daylight could expose you to the world, to your friends — to him.

You'd lied to your friends, a simple "I've got the flu" a convenient excuse to ward off their concern.

But somehow, your apartment felt so empty tonight. Empty takeout containers littered the floor, appetite long lost.

The last rays of sunlight struggled through the blinds, casting long shadows that glided across the walls, reminding you of the passage of time, of the life you were slowly losing control of.

You twisted and turned in your bed, sheets tangled around your legs. Your head throbbed with thoughts you didn't want to have — uninvited, lingering, persistent, intrusive, haunting, gnawing, relentless, agonizing, piercing, suffocating, venomous, tormenting, cruel, accusatory, self-recriminating, maddening — devouring your skull.

Each thought was a fresh wound. His anger. His fear. His desperation. How could you move on? How could you ever mend this?

You'd already compromised so much, given up so much, to turn yourself into someone he could love without tearing himself to pieces. But how much more could you sacrifice before there was nothing left of you, before you became a stranger, before it became some kind of murder?

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You were in an uneasy sleep when a sharp, acrid smell assaulted you, jolting you awake with a violent gasp. Your eyes flew open, blinking rapidly in the dark. Suddenly, your eyes began to water. Your throat burned.

You coughed, your body convulsing as you struggled to breathe. But the air was thick, almost suffocating you with every breath. Through your sleepy haze, it hit you like a lightning bolt.

Smoke.

Thick, dark smoke filled your apartment, obscuring everything in a suffocating nightmare. Adrenaline surged through your veins. You sat upright in bed, your hand flying to cover your mouth and nose with your shirt.

Squinting through the dense fumes, you tried to figure out what was going on, but the haze made it impossible to see anything clearly.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What the hell happened?

A second later, the fire alarm screamed to life, its shrill, ear-splitting wail instantly snapping you out of any remaining sleep.

You needed to get out. Now.

You leapt out of bed, your bare feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. Your hand shot out, grasping for the oversized sweater that lay forgotten at the end of the bed. You yanked it over your head, the fabric covering your thin top.

Stumbling towards the door, you coughed on the smoke that grew thicker, its tendrils clawing at your throat and lungs. You flung open the door, only to be met by a wall of dense, black smoke billowing up the stairwell.

Mrs. Tanaka.

Your elderly neighbor.

The smoke was coming from her apartment, and the realization sent a cold fear straight through your heart.

Covering your mouth and nose with your sleeve, you raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The smoke grew thicker with each step, stinging your eyes and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

By the time you reached Mrs. Tanaka's door, you were wheezing and lightheaded, your lungs screaming for clean air.

"Mrs. Tanaka!" you shouted, your voice raw and desperate as you pounded on her door with all the strength you could muster. "Mrs. Tanaka, are you in there? There's a fire!"

Silence. No response.

With your heart pounding, you were about to try the door handle when a voice from below cut through the chaos.

"Is anyone still up there?" a neighbor from the floor below shouted up the stairwell.

"Yes!" you yelled back. "Mrs. Tanaka is still inside! Call the firefighters!"

You didn't wait for a response. You turned back to the door, your hand closing around the scorching metal handle. To your surprise, it turned easily, and the door swung open to reveal a wall of darkness.

Without thinking, you plunged into the apartment, the thick smoke wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. The heat was intense, searing your skin and making it almost impossible to breathe. Squinting through the haze, you tried to get your bearings, your hand groping along the wall for guidance.

The smoke seemed to be coming from the kitchen, the acrid stench of burning wood and melting plastic stinging your senses. You stumbled forward, making your way deeper into the apartment.

"Mrs. Tanaka!" you called out. "Mrs. Tanaka, are you here?"

But there was no response, just the ominous crackling of the fire and the groaning of the building's structure under the onslaught of the flames.

With each step, the smoke grew thicker, the darkness more absolute. Your lungs burned, every breath a struggle as the toxic fumes filled your airways. Your head began to swim.

You needed to get out.

You tried to find your way back, but your body was failing you. Your lungs screamed for air, the searing pain tearing through your chest like a thousand razor blades. Your vision blurred, the edges of the room fading into a hazy, indistinct mess.

Somehow, you managed to stumble your way back to the door, your hand groping blindly for the doorknob. With a desperate twist, you flung the door open and staggered out into the hallway, gulping in the marginally cleaner air.

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, your legs gave out beneath you. You crashed to the floor, your knees slamming against the hard surface. The impact knocked the wind out of you, leaving you gasping and disoriented.

You hastily covered your mouth and nose again, but it was futile. Too much smoke. There was already too much smoke in your lungs.

You felt your consciousness slipping away, no matter how hard you pressed your hand against your face. Your other hand clawed at the floor, trying to find purchase, trying to keep yourself upright. But it was a losing battle.

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Why did you go in here? What the hell were you thinking?

Desperation clawed at your very being as you looked up and down the hallway, your vision growing dimmer by the second. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut — you might not make it out of this building alive.

Fuck.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Why were you so stupid? Why couldn't you think straight anymore?

Through the haze of your fading consciousness, you thought you heard the distant wail of sirens, the shouts of firefighters. But they seemed so far away.

As the darkness closed in, you coughed violently, your body trying to expel the noxious fumes. Your head hung low as you struggled to draw even the tiniest breath. But there was no oxygen left.

Then, the blackness claimed you, and you knew no more.

─── ·✧· ───

"Breathe in and out for me, please."

The young doctor instructed, his voice wavering slightly. Even through the dull ache of your headache and the fog of medication, you could feel his fingertips trembling against the bare skin of your back.

You did as instructed, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it.

The doctor moved the stethoscope, the cool metal pressing against a different spot on your back. You couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be placing it a bit off. But you were too weary to care.

"And again, please."

You inhaled, the air burning in your lungs. Before you could exhale, a familiar voice roared down the corridor, slicing through the quiet of the hospital. For a brief moment, you wondered if it might have been better to have died in the flames.

"I don't care about your damn protocols!" Satoru's enraged voice tore through the hospital, undoubtedly terrorizing some poor soul. "You have to fucking call me immediately when something like this happens, you understand?!"

Moments later, Satoru burst into the room, a frazzled-looking nurse trailing behind him. The look on her face mirrored your own desire to simply vanish into thin air.

"We had to wait until—" she tried to explain, but Satoru's attention was already on you, the nurse's presence instantly forgotten. He froze, the color draining from his face as he took in the sight of you sitting in the hospital bed, battered and weak.

"I think we're done here. Thank you," you said cautiously to the doctor beside you, bracing yourself for the inevitable scene Satoru was about to make. You pulled away from the young doctor, who remained silent, seemingly paralyzed by Satoru's sudden appearance.

In a heartbeat, Satoru was at your side, nearly pushing the doctor out of his way in his desperation to reach you. He cradled your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. The sudden movement sent another wave of pain through your head.

"Easy," you winced.

"Sorry." His hands frantically traced the contours of your face, as if to convince himself you were real. "How are you? Are you okay?"

You managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, Satoru. No need to worry."

A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of you, alive and breathing. His expression softened before he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Don't scare me like that."

The young doctor, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally found his voice. "Excuse me, sir, but who are you? I'm going to have to ask you to step back and let me continue—"

Wrong move.

For someone so hesitant during the examination, he certainly had guts.

Satoru's head snapped towards the doctor, his eyes blazing with a fury that made the poor man visibly shudder. Before he could unleash his wrath, the nurse jumped in, perhaps sensing the impending disaster.

"He's her husband," she stated matter-of-factly.

Ha?

Husband?

The word cut through your pain and nausea like a blade. "We're not married," you quickly clarified.

"But, what?" the nurse stepped forward. "Sir, you can't be in here then. Hospital policy—"

"I am her husband," Satoru insisted.

"Since when?" you demanded.

Satoru's grip on your face tightened ever so slightly. He looked like he wanted to kill you right after he was done with the other two poor souls in the room.

With a harsh exhale, he snatched the clipboard from the now ghostly pale doctor standing beside him. Flipping it open, he scanned the documents quickly. His jaw clenched with each passing second.

"There's no record of inspecting her throat for signs of soot," he stated.

"I am, uh—" the doctor stammered. "I'm not finished with—"

Satoru turned to him, his eyes narrowing. "Did you not check?"

"Oh, I—" the doctor stuttered, looking like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Poor guy.

"It's the first thing you check, goddamn it. Did you win your fucking medical degree in a lottery?"

"Satoru—," you began, trying to intervene, but he cut you off.

"Leave us alone," he commanded, his attention snapping back to the nurse and the doctor, who stood frozen in place, their faces sheet-white.

"We can't let you be here if you're not related—" the nurse tried to argue, her voice shaking, but Satoru silenced her with a look that could have frozen hell itself.

"I swear to god, I'll buy this goddamn second-rate hospital and have you all fired if you don't leave us alone. Now."

The nurse and the doctor exchanged a terrified glance. You turned to the young doctor, who looked like he was about to faint, and whispered, "I'm so sorry, my husband can be a bit harsh sometimes. It's okay, you can go."

Your words seemed to break the spell, and they practically tripped over each other in their haste to escape, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang. You couldn't blame them.

Satoru could turn really ugly. But then again, so could you.

"You know, you should try being a little nicer to people," you began. "He's just a young resident."

He scoffed. "You say that like you're not a med student yourself."

He turned to you then, his eyes softening just a fraction as they met yours. But the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. You looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he'd burst into the room.

He was wearing sweatpants and a rumpled, slightly oversized white Oxford shirt that was buttoned wrong, as if he'd thrown it on in a hurry. His hair was disheveled, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Then you spotted a faint crimson stain blossoming beneath the fabric of his shirt on his upper arm. Your stomach twisted with the familiar dread. He'd been scratching again.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly.

He blinked at you. "Am I okay? You're the one lying in a hospital bed after running into a burning apartment, and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

"That's not an answer."

He moved to your bedside, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat down next to you. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the fury that had consumed him mere seconds ago. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really," you said, leaving out the burns. "Besides, I checked myself over."

He arched an eyebrow. "You checked your own airways?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. I should've known," he mused, a weak smile ghosting across his lips. "But seriously, what happened?"

"How did you even know I was here in the first place?"

"I have an alert on you. In every hospital in this country," he said without hesitation, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You—what? You're joking, right?"

"Dead serious." His gaze hardened. "Now, tell me what happened."

"Whoa, hold up, we're not done with this," you interjected. "You have an alert on me? What does that even mean? Is that why the nurse thought you were my husband?"

"It's only for relatives." He shrugged. "Had to tweak your medical records a bit. Technically, we're married now, at least as far as your health insurance is concerned."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"What? Is the idea of marrying me still such a strange concept to you?"

"Satoru, there are boundaries, you know?"

"Boundaries? With you? I didn't think we ever had those." He leaned in, his face mere inches from yours. "Besides, if we were actually married, I wouldn't need to do that, would I?"

"You're delusional."

"Always for you."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, his shoulders slumping. His hand fell away from your face, leaving your skin cold and bereft. "Anyway, now tell me what happened."

You stared at him for a moment longer. Then, with a heavy sigh, you recounted the events that had led you here.

How you had noticed the smoke and how you rushed into the apartment, how the firefighters had gotten you out of there, or at least that's what they told you, as you had no memory of that. How, thankfully, Mrs. Tanaka was not in her apartment and was doing fine.

She was with her granddaughter and had forgotten the food she had left in the oven. Talk about dementia, huh?

When you finished, you waited for the anger, for the lecture on how stupid it was to run into a burning apartment, how reckless and irresponsible you'd been. But it never came. Instead, Satoru remained silent, so uncharacteristically silent that it almost scared you.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" he finally whispered, his voice so soft, so broken, so desperate that it nearly shattered your heart. "I can't lose you. Not you."

Don't.

Don't say that.

Don't say you need me.

You wanted to be angry, to scream at him for loving you, for letting you be the reason for his pain, the source of that crimson stain that now seeped across his sleeve, drenching the entire shirt until it was nothing but a bloody red.

But how could you be angry when he stood before you, so vulnerable and broken? How could you deny the executioner the willing blood, the scars he carved into his own flesh with the blade that is your love?

You bleed together after all, beautifully, tragically.

"I'm sorry," you breathed.

He leaned in, his lips a fleeting caress against your forehead, the touch so gentle, so reverent, that you drew in a shuddering breath. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I was so terrified." He shook his head slightly, still resting against you, his eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the memory. "So fucking terrified."

"I'm sorry, Satoru." Your hand came to rest on his chest, finding purchase in his shirt, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm, willing it to slow down. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You're so stupid sometimes, you know that?"

"Always for you," you echoed.

He laughed, the sound weak and watery, but still so achingly familiar, so uniquely Satoru. He leaned in closer still. His lips ghosted over yours, the touch so light, so fleeting, that for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it. But then you felt it again, the barest brush of skin against skin.

His hand wound around your waist, pulling you close to him, your bodies molded together like two halves of a whole. You inhaled sharply, fighting against the pain, your mouth open and hovering before his.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he held himself rigid and still, as if it took every ounce of self-control not to close the distance between you, to claim your lips with his own.

And god, how you wanted him to give in.

How you longed for the feel of his mouth on yours, for the taste of him on your tongue, for the heat of his touch branding your skin until it melted away, exposing the raw bones that ached for him beneath.

But then, he pulled away. "You feel good enough to leave?"

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly constricted. "Yes."

"Then let's go home."

─── ·✧· ───

You stood in the doorway of your apartment, your hand frozen on the knob, your eyes unblinking as you took in the scene before you.

Black.

So much black.

Nothingless.

Ashes.

Your space was now a charred, smoky ruin, the walls blackened with soot, the furniture reduced to piles of ash and twisted metal. Yes, you hadn't fully unpacked, even months after moving here.

But still.

It was your place. Small and cozy and messy. Just yours.

Satoru stood beside you, waiting. "Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, couldn't answer, your throat tight, your tongue useless. Instead, you took a step forward, then another, your feet moving of their own.

The living room was a wasteland, the couch a blackened, smoking husk, the bookshelves reduced to piles of charred kindling. The kitchen was even worse, the appliances melted and twisted, the cabinets nothing more than gaping, empty holes in the wall.

You moved through the space like a ghost, your fingers trailing over the ruined surfaces, your eyes taking in every detail, every bit of damage, every lost and destroyed possession.

Satoru followed close behind. He didn't speak. He simply stayed by your side, his eyes never straying from you. "You shouldn't be in here for too long. Your lungs are still strained."

"I know." Your gaze remained fixed on the wreckage before you. "I didn't even fully unpack, you know." You turned to him, your lips twisting into a wry smile. "Can you believe that?"

He didn't say anything, his jaw tightening, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite name. He probably knew, deep down, that he was partly responsible for this, that his presence in your life, his constant pushing and pulling, had kept you from truly settling, from making this place your own.

Ironic, isn't it?

Somehow all seemed to be stuck until it went up in flames. As if the grand scheme of things had something against you.

How should you really feel about this? Bitter? Sad? Neither emotion seemed fitting at that moment. It's not like there's a manual on how to react when your apartment burns down, right?

You should be crying. You should be mourning every burned photograph, every cherished book turned to ash. But there was nothing. Just this strange detachment. As if your brain decided it was too much and simply flipped a switch and shut down.

You'd almost laugh at how strangely indifferent you felt to your life going up in flames, if it wasn't so terrifying. As if his mere existence in your life overrode everything else.

"Funny, isn't it?"

"What? Your apartment burning down?" he asked. "No. Not really."

You turned to him. "Wow, someone's killing the mood." You turned away, your eyes sweeping over the ruined apartment once more. "But it's ironic."

"What?"

"This," you gestured around you, "this whole fucking mess, the back and forth, the never fully in, never fully out. And now, here we are, standing in the ashes of everything I've ever owned, and all I can think about is... is you. Why are you taking sedatives again? Why didn't you tell me?" You let out a hollow laugh. "It's messed up, isn't it? I don't think this is how it's supposed to be."

Satoru didn't say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you. And to be fair, you couldn't blame him for not having the words. What could anyone say in a situation like this, when everything felt so absurd?

"Sorry," you said. "It's the painkillers."

Walking away from him, your gaze settled on the charred remains of your bed. You crouched down and reached underneath, your fingers searching for something hidden, something precious.

"Can you help me out for a sec?" you asked, your voice strained with the effort of reaching into the ashy depths.

"What are you—"

"Move it to the side."

He didn't hesitate, his strong hands gripping the scorched headboard and effortlessly shoving it away. You reached further, coughing as the ashes swirled up around you. And there, tucked away in the darkness, your fingers finally brushed against something solid, something familiar.

You pulled out the steely box and flipped open the lid. A heavy breath left your lips. Untouched by the flames, thank god. Turning to Satoru, you held up the box. He loomed over you, one hand braced against the headboard, his brow furrowed.

"Kafka," you said with a smile, and he looked at you like you might have lost your mind.

"You should come stay with me," he said. "At least for now."

"No," you said, your voice flat and final as you stood up, your eyes already scanning the room for anything else that might have survived the fire. You clutched the book to your chest, afraid that if you let it go for even a second, it too would crumble to ashes.

"No?" he asked.

"We both know why this won't work."

"Where else are you planning to go then?"

"I don't know." You shrugged. "Maki's, Yuta's. A hotel. I'll figure something out."

"Don't be stupid," Satoru said, his patience wearing thin. "You know it's only—"

"Rational?" you cut him off, turning around to face him. "Don't you dare lecture me on rationality, Professor. Not you. There's nothing rational about this. About us."

He closed the distance between you in two quick strides. "Listen, we can either stand here and argue about this, or you can just come with me. Either way, you know I'm not going to back down."

"It's funny, isn't it? You never back down, but the second I do the same, you shut me out. Like you're the only one allowed to care. Pretty hypocritical, don't you think?"

Satoru's eyes flashed with anger. "You think this is easy for me?"

"Easy to hurt me? Apparently."

"That's not what this is. That's not what I'm trying to do."

"Isn't it though? Because that's exactly how it feels."

"I know you're hurting," he pleaded, his voice softening. "But please, don't be so stubborn."

"I'm sorry that I'm so difficult. Maybe you should just tell me to shut up again? Maybe if you say it often enough, it'll finally sink in. I'll keep quiet, pretend like everything's fine. And I'll just sit back and wait until I find you overdosed again, but this time I'm too late, and I have to watch you die. Is that what you want? I think you should take more Xanax then, speed up the process."

You held your breath, a shard of ice lodged in your throat. You turned away, unable to face the hurt you knew you'd see in his eyes. How ugly one can become when stripped bare.

Maybe you were not good for him after all. Because your words were weapons, sharpened to a deadly point, and you wielded them with precision if you wanted to.

But there was no escape from this hell. No running away, no hiding from the truth that lay between you, spilled out like guts on the floor. It couldn't be stopped, couldn't be contained. It drew you in deeper, pulling you under, until you were both drowning.

Your father always said that a gentle soul was one who experienced pain but spared others from feeling it. But he never told you how fucking hard that would be.

"Can we just... Can we stop this, just for a second?" Satoru asked quietly.

And in that moment, amidst the wreckage of your apartment, surrounded by the ashes of your old life, you realized you couldn't do this anymore. The altar was soaked. The execution was done. But the blood was on your hands.

"Okay," you said. "Let's go home."

─── ·✧· ───

Satoru's living room was painfully familiar.

But also horrifying.

You'd been here before, after you'd been drugged by your own carelessness—headless after you'd found out about his addiction. And you've been here before, when you fought with him to get clean—been here to find him half-dead after nearly overdosing.

Lifeless and barely breathing.

And now you were here again.

Satoru had fallen back into addiction, and you? Somehow, you felt like you didn't know who you were anymore, your identity bleeding from open wounds onto the already soaked carpet below.

Horrifying, indeed.

But it was your new home from now on. But it didn't feel like a home. Not after what had happened.

You made your way to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, you filled it with water. At least the move had been quick. No packing required when all your belongings had gone up in flames.

Small mercies, you supposed.

"I'm sorry to leave you alone so soon." Satoru's voice. His footsteps behind you made you turn, and you saw him emerging from the bedroom. "I can't skip this lecture, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he adjusted his watch on his wrist. He was dressed in his signature professorial attire — a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks, paired with a slightly askew tie.

He looked up then. "Will you be okay here on your own?"

You managed a weak smile, setting your glass down on the counter. "I'm fine, Satoru. You don't have to ask me that every five minutes."

"But how can I not?" he said softly.

You closed your eyes for a moment, the memory of his hurt gaze stinging. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to him. "Really, I'm fine." You reached up to straighten his tie, your fingers lingering on the smooth silk. "You really suck at this, you know."

His hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs tracing circles through the thin fabric of your shirt. "Good thing you're here now, right? Making sure I look presentable."

"At least one thing I'm good at," you said, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

His fingers twitched against your hips, and you instantly regretted letting your resentment slip out yet again. It wasn't him you were angry with, you desperately needed to remind yourself of that.

But the frustration, the fear, the sheer exhaustion of holding it all together was building to a breaking point. Each fight felt like another chip off an already fragile foundation, and you were terrified of what would happen when there was nothing left.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, gazing up at him. You forced a smile, hoping to ease the worry etched on his face. "You need to get to the university."

"I know." His arms tightened around you, drawing you impossibly closer, as if he could mend everything standing between you if only he held you tightly enough. "Just a moment longer, love," he pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper against your hair. "I... I thought I lost you."

"Okay," you breathed, melting into his embrace and resting your head against his heart. He held you close, the pressure against your burns sending a sharp sting through your body.

Time seemed to still as you stood there, entwined in each other's arms, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but this—this quiet, fleeting moment suspended between the next battle, a calm before yet another storm, of that you were sure.

Reluctantly, Satoru pulled back, reaching for his wallet. He retrieved a sleek black credit card and held it out to you. "The pin is 2947," he said. "The daily limit is one thousand, but I can increase it if you need more. I don't have much food in the house right now, you may need to order some."

You stared at the card, then back at him. "Satoru, I have my own money. You don't have to—"

"I know," he interrupted. "But please, do me the favor. Besides, I'll be eating the food too, right? So really, it's for both of us."

Something in his eyes silenced your objection. "Okay," you said, your fingers closing around the card.

"Oh, and here." He fished out his keys, holding them out to you. "I can get another set made later—"

"No, I—," you said, "I still have your keys." You met his gaze. "You said I should keep them. So I kept them."

A faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Now go, before you'll be really late," you added.

He reached out then, threading his fingers through your hair and gently pulling you close once more. He placed a tender kiss on top of your head before stepping back. You watched as he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door.

And just like that, he was gone.

The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the suddenly too-quiet, too-spacious, and too-unfamiliar apartment.

Running a hand through your hair, your fingers caught on a few stray strands still holding traces of ash from the fire. You desperately needed a shower.

You made your way to the bathroom. As you pushed open the door, a wave of nausea slammed into you, doubling you over. Vivid and unmerciful memories clawed their way to the surface — Satoru on the cold tile floor, his face ashen, his body still as death.

Staggering back, you gripped the doorframe for support, fighting the bile that scorched your throat. The image was seared into your brain, a permanent scar that refused to fade. You closed the door, shutting out the painful memory.

You took a deep breath.

Yeah, taking a shower would definitely be a challenge.

─── ·✧· ───

You couldn't.

You tried but you simply couldn't.

How pathetic is that?

You were not even able to take a shower.

In the end, you settled for somehow washing yourself with a damp cloth in the kitchen and bandaging your burns. It was the best you could manage.

You knew you needed to eat something, but hunger was nowhere to be found, so you figured if you'd order a lot of different things maybe something will wander into your stomach, or so you thought.

When the takeaway finally arrived, you sat at the table and eyed the various containers and dishes. One leg up on the chair, knee drawn to your chest.

No hunger.

Nothing.

Satoru would be home soon anyway, he sure was hungry. Strange how you knew that, even now. How strangely, intimately familiar you were with his schedule.

The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. And all you could do was sit and wait until you felt like yourself again. But somehow, you couldn't get your mind out of that bathroom. His lifeless form, the cold tile beneath him. It was seared into your brain.

You couldn't shake the sickening feeling of helplessness that had engulfed you in that moment, the realization that no matter how desperately you wanted to, you were powerless to save him.

It was a feeling you knew all too well, an awful feeling that had taken root in your chest the day your father died. You had been just a child then, too young to understand the finality of death, too small to do anything.

For years, you had clung to the belief that if only you had been older, if only you had been stronger, you could have saved him.

But maybe that was not the truth.

Maybe it wasn't about being a child at all. Maybe there was something inherently wrong with you. Maybe Sukuna was right.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm light through the apartment windows, you heard the familiar sound of keys clicking in the lock before shortly Satoru stepped through the door.

He paused, his eyes widening as he took in the array of takeaway containers scattered across the table. A playful grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he turned to you, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Is that all for me, or did you invite some friends over?"

You returned his smile. "I figured you'd be hungry."

Satoru chuckled, his laughter a welcome break from the unbearable silence that had filled the apartment in his absence. "Someone sure was hungry." He placed his briefcase and keys on the side table, the familiar routine bringing a sense of normalcy to the otherwise surreal situation. "How are you feeling?"

He crossed the room to where you sat, his hand coming to rest gently on the back of your head. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment before he made his way to the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening reached your ears, followed by the crackle of a water bottle being unsealed.

"I'm fine." You turned your head to watch him, your eyes following the line of his throat as he took a long swig. "How was your day?"

He suddenly stopped, nearly choking on his water. "Did you just ask me how my day was?"

"Is that so strange?"

"No, I—" he blinked, a smile tugging at his lips. "I like that."

"Domestic, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he mused, his gaze softening. "I could get used to that."

You remained silent for a second longer, before Satoru broke the spell, gesturing towards the table with a tilt of his head. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

You shrugged. "I guess I got a bit carried away. I couldn't decide what I wanted, so I just ordered a little bit of everything."

Satoru returned to the table, settling into the chair opposite you, his eyes roaming over the vast array of dishes you'd ordered. Reaching for a container, Satoru popped it open and inhaled deeply. "Well, you certainly made good use of that credit card."

"Maybe you should consider upping the limit, after all."

Satoru grinned. "That's no problem, love. Anything for you."

He broke apart a pair of wooden chopsticks and started to eat, but halted just a second later, his gaze falling on the perfectly arranged food before him. "You didn't eat anything."

"I did," you said.

"Don't lie to me."

You paused. "It's not like I didn't try."

He exhaled heavily, then set the chopsticks down and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

"That shouldn't stop you from eating. You must be hungry," you added.

"It's okay. I ate at the university."

His gaze held you captive, those impossibly blue eyes now soft and unguarded, filled with a yearning that made your heart ache. It was a look that had become so familiar, a look that filled your heart as much as it fueled your fear.

But you weren't sure you could bear it anymore.

The constant worry, the sleepless nights, the fear of finding him lifeless on the bathroom floor—it was all too much. Every moment spent with him was a delicate dance on the edge of a knife, never knowing when the blade might slip and cut you both to the bone.

"Don't look at me like that," you whispered.

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," he shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Say it."

"Because it makes it easier?"

"It hurts better coming from your lips."

"And you need that?"

"Anything you give me, yes."

You tore your gaze away from his, unable to bear the blue of his eyes any longer. "I can't do this, Satoru." You stood up and started pacing the room, turning away from him.

"Then tell me," he started, his voice laced with desperation, "what do you want me to do? You want me sober, fine, I'm trying, even when it feels like it's killing me. You want me to keep my distance, okay, I'll try, even if it rips me apart. I'm yours, so just tell me what you want, and I'll do it. I'm at your mercy!"

You shook your head, refusing to look at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "You don't understand."

He stood up, his hands slamming down on the table. "Then make me understand!"

"I live in constant fear, Satoru." You spun around to face him, your eyes burning. "And I don't think I can do this anymore. This fear, it's turning me into someone I don't even recognize anymore." The words poured out of you, a flood of pain and frustration you couldn't hold back any longer. "I try so hard not to be anxious all the time, but I can't trust you, Satoru. Not your actions, not your words. I can't even trust that you'll tell me the important things. I can't trust you when you say you love me, and I definitely can't trust you when you say you've got it under control, while you're taking more and more pills like it's nothing. How can I trust that you won't take it too far? That I won't have to plan my speech for your fucking funeral?"

Not again.

Not again you would ever want to see his body so still.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "And I can't shake this feeling... that it's all my fault."

"What?" His gaze softened, confusion etched on his face. "Why would you think that?"

"You said it yourself. I'm pushing you."

"That's not—I didn't—" he started, but stopped, realizing he had indeed said those words. "Is that why you won't let me help you?"

"There's comfort in self-destruction, isn't there?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Because I would have to be an addict first, to know?" you said, the question a knife, twisting, cutting, drawing blood.

He was silent.

And you were done. Empty. A shell of the person you once were. It was unfair, and you hated yourself for it, for letting the venom spill from your lips, for hurting the one person who didn't deserve it.

But you were at your limit.

The love you had for him, the love he had for you, it was a malignant growth, metastasizing, consuming, destroying everything in its wake. It was a sickness with no cure. No treatment. No hope for remission.

Symptom and cause, all at once.

And in that moment, standing there, your heart splintering with each passing second, one truth burned with cruel clarity. His sobriety, his chance at a future, was eating him from the inside out.

But the other truth, the one that clawed at your insides, was that you might not be strong enough to survive it either. If he couldn't break free, if he couldn't stop — you'd be the one left to bury him.

It was a fear that gnawed at you, a constant, aching presence that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to imagine a future where you both made it out alive.

You loved him with a fierce, irrational intensity, but could you be strong enough to stay by his side and watch him slowly kill himself? To be his executioner or his mourner?

"What did Sukuna say to you, love?" he asked suddenly, so softly.

"Nothing." You averted your gaze, the lie heavy on your tongue. "I didn't talk to him."

"Don't lie to me. Something's wrong. What is it?"

You met his gaze. "What's the reason you're back on the sedatives?"

Satoru's shoulders slumped, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He sank onto the chair, elbows digging into the table as he scrubbed his hands over his face, then raked them through his hair.

A tense silence hung in the air. Finally, he raised his head, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

He couldn't tell you. Didn't trust you enough.

You turned away, unable to bear the weight of his silence. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you gripped the edge until your knuckles turned white. As you shifted, the button-down shirt you'd borrowed from him rode up, exposing the red marks on your thighs.

Satoru's reaction was immediate. His chair clattered to the floor as he surged to his feet, crossing the distance between you in a heartbeat, his fingers hovering over the burns. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing." You braced your hands against the counter behind you, trying to create some distance.

"This isn't nothing." His voice was strained, his hands trembling as he pushed the fabric higher, revealing more of the patchwork of pain that crawled up your leg. Before he could uncover more, your hand closed around his wrist.

"It's okay. I took care of it," you said.

His eyes locked onto yours, their intensity silencing your protests. You let go of his hand. Gently, he pushed your shirt higher, his touch feather-light as he traced the red burns on your thighs.

His brows furrowed with each new discovery, the marks growing angrier, deeper, until he reached the hastily applied bandage at your waist. You could practically feel the question in his touch.

"Satoru, stop. It's—"

But it was too late. He quickly undid the bandages, ignoring your protests. The bandage fell away, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

"You have second-degree burns on your waist," he said.

"First degree," you tried to play it down. "Don't be dramatic."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It doesn't matter." You looked away. "They'll heal."

Satoru's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He stumbled back a step, turned away from you, and raked his hands through his hair, yanking at the strands with a guttural growl of frustration.

The tension in the room was unbearable, you knew he was only one stupid word away from snapping. He started pacing the length of the kitchen like a caged animal. You watched him, your heart strangely calm.

He slammed his fists against the counter opposite you, his head bowed. "You infuriating woman!" The words were barely out before his fist connected with the wood again, the impact sending a tremor through the room, leaving a visible dent.

You didn't flinch. You knew his anger wasn't directed at you, but at the situation, at the unfairness of it all, at the helplessness that threatened to consume you both. You knew that. You felt it too.

He slumped over the counter once more, his head buried in his hands, his fingers tearing at his hair. You were sure he was pulling out strands, his shoulders heaving with each ragged breath.

When he finally turned back to you, his eyes were carefully blank, a mask over the storm raging within.

He crossed the room, his body crowding yours against the counter. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the delicate skin beneath your eye.

"It matters to me," he whispered. His other hand settled on your hip, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, which you had also borrowed, to trace the edge of the bandage. "You matter to me."

His touch was feather-light, despite the tension that still shimmered through every line of his body. "I'll change that bandage." It wasn't a question, but a statement of intent. You nodded.

You perched on the kitchen counter, holding your shirt up to your chest. Satoru stepped between your legs. You shivered as his fingers brushed against your skin, carefully peeling away the old bandage, the fabric sticking to the raw flesh beneath.

He didn't say anything as the full extent of the damage was revealed, but you could feel his silent fury.

You knew it wasn't directed at you, but at your stubborn refusal to let him in, to share your pain. You hadn't wanted to trouble him, to add another burden to his already heavy shoulders.

You watched him silently through lowered lashes as he cleaned the wound, his fingers ghosting over the damaged skin like a whisper. You flinched at the contact, a hiss of pain escaping your lips.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay."

As he began to remove the dead skin around the burn, a searing pain shot through your body. Your head snapped to the side, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the scream that clawed at your throat.

Satoru paused, his eyes searching yours. "Can you hold on a bit longer for me, love?"

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. You knew he was being as gentle as possible, but the pain was nearly unbearable. Your hand found his shoulder, gripping it tightly, the other one still clutching your shirt. Your fingers dug into his skin, but he didn't flinch, his focus solely on you.

You leaned into him, suddenly boneless with exhaustion and pain, your forehead coming to rest against his shoulder. He wrapped a fresh bandage around your waist, his touch both firm and gentle.

When he was finished, he didn't step away. Instead, he let his hands rest on your hips. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. "Don't ever lie to me again when you're hurt," he said, his voice muffled but resolute. "Promise me."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, your nose brushing against his jaw. He turned his face towards you, his lips a hair's breadth away, so close you could almost taste him on your tongue.

"I promise," you breathed.

A beat of silence passed. Then, his voice softened, almost hesitant. "You didn't call your mother back."

"Huh?"

"She called me. She's worried about you. You haven't answered her calls in weeks."

"I... I can't right now," you whispered, the admission sticking in your throat, the shame of it too heavy to bear. Not another fight. There were already too many, too many wounds that hadn't healed, too many scars that would never fade.

"We can visit her together again. If that would make it easier for you."

"Okay," you whispered, your voice unsteady.

A truce settled between you, a silent agreement to avoid the painful truths for now. He wouldn't push you about Sukuna, and you wouldn't push him about the pills. You both knew this dance, this careful avoidance of the real issues that festered beneath the surface.

But for now, in this moment, you could pretend. Pretend that love was enough. But was it really? Was love alone enough to keep you both alive?

Deep down, you knew there was no happy ending, no miraculous recovery, no fairy tale love that could conquer all. There was only the harsh, ugly reality of addiction and the cold, hard truth of a love that had become a prison, a death sentence disguised as devotion.

"I love you," Satoru whispered, breaking the silence.

His lips hovered over yours, a feather-light touch that once set your soul on fire, but now left you cold and empty.

You slid off the counter, your body brushing against his as you stood. You turned away, unable to face him, unable to face the love that had become a disease, a cancer ate away at your very being.

With a trembling hand, you wiped away the single tear that escaped your eye. "Maybe you should stop that."

"Not even in death," he said to you.

"I'm going to bed," you said to him.

You walked away.

He didn't follow.

Perhaps this was your curse — to forever dance on the knife's edge of love and hate, never able to fully commit to either. Or maybe it was simply human nature, the constant struggle between attraction and repulsion that defined so many relationships.

─── ·✧· ───

You awoke with a start.

For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, confused, your mind struggling to make sense of your sudden alarm. You sat up, your body heavy. And then, you heard it, a sound that cut through the silence of the night.

You knew what it was. Heard it once before.

Satoru.

You were on your feet before you could think, your body moving of its own accord, carrying you over to his bedroom, nearly slipping on the suddenly so slick floor. You pushed open the door, your heart in your throat.

And there he was, thrashing on the bed, his body drenched in sweat, his face contorted in agony.

"Satoru," you said as you moved over. "Wake up."

But you knew this. Had been here before.

Without waiting a second, you climbed onto the bed, your body pressing against his, as you straddled his hips. You cupped his face, your fingers threading through his hair. "Satoru! Please, wake up, it's just a dream, it's not real!"

Still, he remained trapped.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead against his. "Satoru," you said, your breath fanning over his face. "I'm here, I'm right here, please, come back to me."

And then, his eyes flew open, wide and haunted.

He sat up abruptly, pushing you back in doing so, until you sat on his lap, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare, sweat-slicked chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He looked at you, his gaze unfocused, his mind still seemingly trapped, as if he couldn't quite believe that you were real, that you were here with him.

"It's okay." You reached up, your thumbs brushing away the single tear that streamed down his cheeks. "You're safe, I'm here, it was just a dream."

He blinked, his eyes clearing, his mind slowly returning to the present, to the reality of your presence, your touch. "You're here," he whispered, his voice raw, broken, barely audible. "You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm here," you whispered, your arms wrapping around him, your fingers tangling in his hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his arms coming up your spine to wrap around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm so sorry."

You held him, your hands wrapped around his neck, your fingers in his hair. "It's okay, I'm here."

"Please." His grip tightened around your waist, pulling you close with a searing pain that echoed through the burns on your skin. You bit back a gasp, refusing to let him see how much it hurt. "Please don't leave me."

Your heart nearly shattered at his sudden admission, your grip tightening on him in response. "Stupid," you said. "How could I ever leave you. I'm tethered to you, after all."

─── ·✧· ───

"It's not always the same."

Satoru's voice was hoarse, barely rising above a whisper.

"It's fractured, parts and pieces that I can't really explain. And then I'm alone in this hole, like at the bottom of a well, surrounded by nothing and everything at the same time, and it's crushing me," he paused. "I don't know, it doesn't make sense."

"Maybe it's not supposed to make sense."

"But dreams mean something, don't they?"

"Dreams are just dreams," you said softly. "Thoughts are just thoughts. It's what we do with them that matters. How we choose to act."

Cool, crisp air of the early morning enveloped you both as you walked along the pier, the weathered wooden planks creaking beneath your feet. The sky above was a deep indigo, slowly yielding to the soft hues of dawn painting the horizon.

Around you, the city around you was slowly coming to life, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional cry of a seagull punctuating the quiet dawn.

You glanced out at the water, watching as the first few fishing boats began their journey out to sea, their lights flickering like fireflies in the night. Satoru walked beside you, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Suddenly, he stopped. You halted too, turning to face him.

"Sometimes," he said, "sometimes I see you in my dreams."

"And what do I do?"

"Nothing. You're just there." He hesitated, as if the memory itself was too painful to relive. "But I see your hands, covered in blood. It won't wash away. And I can't wake up, can't look away."

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know. But I know that whatever it is, whatever happened—it's my fault."

"Why would you think that?"

Satoru met your gaze, his eyes haunted. "Because that's what I do, isn't it? I'm an addict. I hurt people. You said it yourself."

You swallowed, hating yourself for how ugly and hurtful your words could be, even to the people you loved most. "No. You're not."

His frown deepened.

"No, you're not," you repeated, stepping closer. "Not to me. That's a label you've given yourself." You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes. "Satoru, if I could give you one thing, it would be the ability to see yourself through my eyes. To me, you're just Satoru. That's all I want, all I've ever wanted. And I..." You paused, your voice catching. "I hate you, without knowing how, or when, or why. I simply do. And I'm sorry that I've been failing to show you that lately, but I'm trying."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips then, a soft, gentle curve that seemed almost foreign on his face, as if he'd forgotten how to truly smile. "You confused 'love' with 'hate'," he teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourse—," you began but he suddenly reached out, his hand closing around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He cupped your chin with his other hand, tilting your face up.

He studied your face, his eyes tracing every curve and contour. But then his expression hardened, like a mask slipping into place. His fingers brushed through your hair. "You still have ashes on you."

Your chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. "You know, It's hard taking a shower in the same bathroom where you nearly died," you said, hating how your voice was close to breaking.

His eyes widened. It was as if the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, a painful clarity that shattered him from within. His lips parted, as if to speak, but the words were stuck.

"I never meant to hurt you. Not you," he whispered.

"But you did, Satoru. And you'll do it again," you said. "But I'm yours to break. So it's okay."

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. "Don't say something like that." His gaze was fixed on your lips, as if he could taste the pain in your words, as if he wanted to consume it, to take it into himself and bear it for you.

"Then be careful with me, Satoru. Tell me what's going on."

Satoru was silent for a long moment, the only sounds the distant cry of seagulls and the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, he spoke. "It's not because of you. The sedatives, I mean."

"Is it about Sukuna?

"No... I mean, yes, but not mostly," he admitted, his brow furrowed. "It's my parents."

"We don't have to go to them, Satoru. You don't have to go there."

"You know why we have to, why I have to."

"Then let's confront this lawsuit head-on. Take the fight straight to Naoya."

His jaw tightened. "No. I won't let that happen. I won't let you get dragged into this."

"Why not? It's my choice, Satoru."

"No. We won't do that. End of discussion."

Without a word, he released you, his fingers slipping from your waist. He stepped back, his footsteps echoing against the weathered planks of the pier as he made his way to the railing to lean against it.

You followed him, the salty air whipping around you, carrying with it the briny scent of the sea and the faint traces of seaweed and fish. Satoru was silent, his gaze fixed on the vast ocean. You followed his gaze.

Around you, the pier was coming to life, the low murmur of voices and the clanking of equipment drifting on the breeze. Fishing boats bobbed gently on the water, their white hulls gleaming in the sun, their crews moving about on deck, preparing for the day ahead.

"I think my problem is that I don't know how to talk about it, how to make you understand things I cannot understand myself," Satoru began. "There's just this chaos inside my head, and I don't know how to sort it out."

"Then don't. Just let it out."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to sort it out. Just speak and I'll listen."

He took a deep breath. "Growing up I never had anyone to look up to. Just people I swore I'd never become. My parents... they were always pushing, always demanding. How do they say it? Wanting the best for me and all that. Top surgeons for generations. It's in my blood." He paused, staring out at the horizon. "But they never asked if I wanted that. Never cared to give me a chance to just... breathe, and think."

He let out a bitter laugh. "And the worst part? I was good at it. A natural. But that only made it worse, made me hate it even more."

You shifted closer, your hand finding the railing beside his.

"I tried talking to them," he continued, "thought if I could just find the right words, I could make them understand what they were doing to me. Get them to change. But no matter how much I screamed, how raw my throat got, they never listened. I could never make them listen."

His fingers twitched at his side, and you saw his nails digging into his palms.

"So I just... stopped trying. Stopped speaking. Went through the motions. It was easier to do what they wanted, to get their attention and approval by being the perfect surgeon they expected. And ironically, it was so damn easy. Maybe that's what got me into addiction so easily."

Satoru glanced down at his hands, his fingers clenched tight. "I still love surgery," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper, as if confessing a shameful secret. "Even after everything they put me through, I love it. How screwed up is that?"

"Do your parents know? About the addiction?" you asked.

"No. I don't think they ever cared enough to notice. Or maybe they just turned a blind eye. I don't know." He looked down at his hands, realizing he'd drawn blood, and quickly unclenched his fists. "I keep telling myself I should forgive them, that holding onto this anger and resentment is pointless. I mean, I'm in my thirties, I should be able to let it go, right? But I just... I don't know if I can."

"What makes you think you have to forgive them?"

He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Be the bigger person, rise above it all? Parents are only human, right?"

"No." You stepped closer, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. "Satoru, listen to me. You don't have to feel forgiveness or sympathy for your parents, and you don't have to wait for those feelings to appear. You don't owe them your forgiveness. Neither are you defined by their inability to love. You can't force someone to care or to see what they don't want to see."

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. You reached out, your fingers intertwining with his, his blood warm against your skin. "Come with me," you said softly.

You walked down the pier towards the harbor, where the fishermen were already bustling about, preparing for the day's catch. Hands still intertwined with Satoru's, you weaved your way through the activity. He followed half a step behind you, letting you lead.

"When my father died, I wanted to quit," you said, salty air filling your lungs. "Just... walk away from it all. Never see the inside of a hospital again, never open another stupid neurology textbook. I hated that antiseptic smell, how it seemed to cling to everything, even to myself. And I was so angry. Angry at the world, at fate, at everything. And I was alone with this, because my mom just shut herself off. Couldn't face it."

You paused, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. "I felt so torn. Between this anger and my love for medicine. Loving it and hating it in equal measure. I threw myself into work, anything to distract myself from the fact that I couldn't possibly love something that only brought me so much pain. So I chose to hate it, believing anger was what kept me walk."

As you spoke, an old beagle, its brown and white fur speckled with gray, ambled onto the pier. Its long ears dangled as it sniffed its way between a few stalls, its tail wagging gently. It made its way towards you, stopping beside you and sniffing at your leg.

Crouching down, you held out your hand, letting the dog sniff. It hesitated for a moment, its nose twitching as it took in your scent. Then, as if making a decision, it nuzzled into your palm, its tail wagging happily. You couldn't help but smile as you ran your fingers through its soft fur.

"But you don't hate it anymore," Satoru observed quietly. "What changed?"

"It's not linked, you know. It's only in your head." ​​The beagle nuzzled your hand, its tail thumping contentedly against the pier. "You can love something without the circumstances that made you hate it. You can love surgery without the grief, love it without the abuse," you paused, your voice softening, "love the man without the addiction."

Just then, an old fisherman approached, his face etched with deep lines and his skin tanned from years under the sun. "Ah, that old rascal again," he said, shaking his head. "Always getting into mischief."

You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. "Is he yours?"

"Nah," the fisherman replied, "he's a bit of a stray, this one. Lives around the pier here. We all try to catch him sometimes, but he's a slippery fella."

Just as he said that, the beagle perked up its ears, gave one last nuzzle to your hand, and trotted off down the pier.

The fisherman grimaced. "See? Always one step ahead. At least he didn't manage to steal my fish today."

You stood up, brushing off your knees. "He's a smart one," you agreed, watching the dog disappear into the crowd.

The fisherman, with a final nod and a wave, turned back to his stall, resuming his preparations for the day. The rhythmic clinking of metal and the smell of fresh fish filled the air once again.

You turned back to Satoru, your eyes locking with his. "Sometimes," you picked up where you'd left off, "we cling to the pain because we're afraid that if we let it go, we'll lose the last connection we have to what we've lost. But anger and pain aren't the only way to stay connected."

You reached for his hand again and pulled him along as you made your way down the pier, the bustle of the fishmongers surrounding you. Their voices rose in a chorus of shouts and laughter, and in the distance you could hear the gentle rhythm of the waves.

The day's catch was displayed on beds of glistening ice, from sleek silver mackerel to plump pink shrimp, their scales catching the light like tiny prisms as you waved through the activity.

At the very end of the pier, you stopped, both of you drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you, a shimmering carpet of blue and gold.

The breeze picked up, tugging at your hair and clothes, the salty tang of the sea filling your lungs with each breath. You pulled Satoru's borrowed jacket closer around your shoulders.

"I know there's stability in self-destruction, in prolonging sadness," you said, "but maybe this sadness and anger is just the grief of not having the parents you needed."

"You know what I hate about you?" Satoru asked.

"What, that I look better in your jacket than you do?"

"No, although that's definitely a close second."

"What is it then?" you asked, both of you gazing out to the lazy dance of the waves.

"I hate how easily I got addicted to you," he confessed. "In ways I can't even begin to put into words. How quickly you became a part of me, like you were always meant to be there. Every day, every moment, you're in my head, under my skin. I can't even sleep at night without thinking about you, without wanting to hear your voice, to touch you. Because with you, breathing never felt like a burden. And I think that's something I'm not used to."

He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours. "I care about you, more than I ever thought I could care about anyone. And that terrifies me. It terrifies me to be with you. And I have a lot of regrets about that, about how I've handled things. But I'm trying, I really am. And I'm sorry I haven't been doing a good job lately. I'm trying to be more easy to love."

"You were never hard to love, Satoru, not for me."

Satoru's lips curved into a smile. He took a sharp inhale, his hand coming up to tilt your chin upwards, his gaze on your lips. But before he could lean in, a sudden bark shattered the silence, startling you both.

The stray beagle from before trotted back over, his paws tapping softly against the weathered wood of the pier. His tail wagged as he made his way over, stopping at your feet and sitting down, looking up at you.

"He must really like you," Satoru said against your lips.

You looked down, smiling as the beagle leaned against your leg. "Seems like it." You crouched down again, the beagle leaning into your touch, his soft fur brushing against your fingers. "Guess I just have a thing for old, broken things that no one else wants," you quipped, scratching behind the dog's ears.

Satoru's smile twitched. "Ouch."

He watched you for a second as the sun, slowly rising, painted the sky in hues of pale pink and gold, casting long shadows across the weathered wood planks and reflecting off the calm waters of the harbor.

"Will you tell me what Sukuna said to you?" he asked.

You stopped petting the dog, your smile fading. "He said I was no good for you. That you'd be better off without me."

"And you believe that?"

"I don't know." You resumed petting the dog, your fingers tracing absentmindedly through its fur. "Maybe I am. Maybe I make things harder than they need to be."

Satoru crouched down beside you, the dog curiously peeking up at him as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "I want you to make my life harder," he said. "Because you make me want to be better, to do better. And even when it's hard, even when I mess up, I'd rather face it all with you than have an easy life without you."

"What if I push you too far? What if I lose myself again? Say those awful things again?"

"It doesn't matter," he said firmly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I want your awful. I want all of you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm not letting you go, no matter how hard it gets."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," you whispered.

Satoru's gaze softened. "Nothing you say can hurt me."

The beagle, sensing the change in the atmosphere, nudged his head under your hand again, comforting you. You looked down at him, a small smile on your lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you that Sukuna is back," Satoru said after a moment. "I was scared."

"It's okay," you said, looking up at him. "I'm scared too."

He let out a shaky breath. "Stupid what fear makes you do, huh?"

"What would you do if you weren't scared?" you asked.

Satoru blinked, taken aback by the question. He slowly rose to his feet, turning towards the vast ocean. You followed him, the dog settling at your feet. Satoru leaned back against the railing of the pier, his gaze fixed on his feet. "Without fear?"

"Without any fear."

He huffed. "I would quit my job. Sell all that property that ties me to my parents, and buy us a little house, somewhere far away from here, somewhere that feels like home. I'd get us an old, grumpy dog, just like him." He glanced down at the beagle at your feet. 

Then he looked up, meeting your gaze. "And I'd marry you, in a heartbeat, without a second thought. I'd spend every day of the rest of my life making sure you never doubted, even for a moment, just how much you mean to me." 

He paused and looked out at the ocean again. "I'd try rehab again, as many times as it takes, until I get it right, until I can be the man I want to be for you."

You moved closer, closing the distance between you. "Then do it scared, Satoru," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "You don't have to wait until your past is undone, until you feel forgiveness for your parents, or until this mess with Sukuna is over. You are not paralyzed by it. So do it scared."

Your hand reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the stubble on his jaw. "I'm scared too. Scared of how much I feel for you, of how deeply you've burrowed into my heart. But I'm willing to do it scared, if you are. Together. Because I can't stand this silence between us."

Satoru leaned in, his hands finding your hips. You tilted your head back, your heart pounding as his lips hovered just a breath away.

"So is this a yes?"

"To what?"

"Marrying me?"

"No."

"No?"

"Ask me again when we're both in a better place. And you'll get the answer you want."

His lips curved into a sly smile, his dimples deepening. "Can I kiss you?"

"Since when do you ask permission?"

"Since we're... like this."

"Like what?"

"Separated," he said, "or something like that."

"We're never really separated, are we?"

"I don't know," he breathed, his lips so close now that you could feel his warmth against your skin. "All I know is that I want you. I've only ever wanted you—"

And with those words, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his. His arms wrapped around you, carefully avoiding your burns, pulling you flush against him.

In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

You could taste the salt on his skin, feel the roughness of his stubble against your cheek, the gentle caress of the wind in your hair. In the distance, waves crashed against the shore.

In that stolen moment, the currents met again, their crimson stains matching perfectly and the pain of the past seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one, souls intertwined in a way that defied logic.

Finally, he gently set you back down, his forehead resting against yours. "What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your favorite color, what is it?"

"I don't know, blue?"

Back home, you lay together in his bed, the guest room long forgotten. He pulled you close, his strong arms wrapped around you. And for the first time in a long time, Satoru slept soundly, the nightmares that had haunted him finally silenced.

─── ·✧· ───

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell. Seriously, couldn't you just have a normal wake-up call for once in this chapter? Is that too much to ask, author?

Anyway.

With a groan, you rolled over, your hand reaching out for Satoru, wanting to shove him out of bed to answer the door. But your fingers met only cold, empty sheets. Your eyes blinked open.

He wasn't there.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you glanced around the room, your gaze falling on a small note on the bedside table. You reached for it.

"Had to leave early for a faculty meeting. Breakfast is in the fridge. Construction workers coming at 10, let them in, they know what to do. I love you." It was written in Satoru's distinctive, slanted handwriting.

You stared at the note, not sure whether the unexpected construction workers or the casual "I love you" at the end was more unsettling. Satoru hadn't said anything about construction work, and a little warning would have been nice.

But he made breakfast. Husband points for that.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, you felt your heart skip a beat. 10:15. The construction workers were already here, and you were still in bed, wearing nothing but one of Satoru's t-shirts and a pair of his boxers you'd borrowed last night. Lovely.

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled out of bed, grabbed some sweatpants from the dresser, and pulled them on, almost tripping in your rush to get to the door. The doorbell rang again, the sound even more insistent than before, as you hurried down the hallway.

Then you skidded to a halt. There, sprawled across the living room sofa, was the beagle from yesterday. He blinked sleepily, his head tilting as if he were as annoyed as you were about the doorbell.

What? How did he get in here? Did Satoru bring him?

The doorbell's relentless chime pulled you back to reality. You shook your head, you'll deal with this later. With a final glance at the unexpected houseguest, you unlocked the door and swung it open, your eyes widening at the sight that greeted you.

There, standing on the threshold, were three burly men in hard hats and work boots, their arms crossed over their broad chests as they stared down at you with impatient expressions. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were here to kill you.

Husband minus points for that. At least do it yourself, coward.

"Ms. Gojo?" the one in front asked, ripping you out of your trance as you seemed to be frozen, his voice gruff. "We're here for the bathroom renovation. Mr. Gojo said to start at 10."

If you weren't so sleepy, you might have corrected him about the "Ms. Gojo" part, but you were too confused to bother. You blinked. "I... yes, of course." You stepped aside. "Please, come in."

The men filed past you, their heavy boots thudding against the floor as they made their way into the apartment. You silently cursed them for not taking off their shoes, knowing you'd have to clean up after them. You closed the door and tried to figure out what to do next.

"Um, the bathroom is just down the hall, on the left." You gestured vaguely in the direction. "I... I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. Mr. Gojo didn't mention anything about a renovation."

The leader of the group, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard, turned to look at you, his expression softening a bit. "No worries, miss," he said, his voice a little kinder than before. "We've got all the instructions we need. You just go about your day, and we'll take care of everything."

"Thank you." You managed a small smile. "I appreciate it."

The man nodded, then turned to his crew, giving them orders as they headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. You stood there for a moment, watching them go, and then your eyes fixed on the two buckets they were carrying.

Wall paint.

Blue.

You felt your heart clench suddenly, or maybe you were about to have a heart attack, or a stroke, or both. After everything that had happened recently, you shouldn't even be surprised anymore. Shaking your head, you tried to focus again.

You needed coffee. You needed food. And most of all, you needed a damn shower.

You grabbed some of Satoru's spare clothes, the breakfast he had left for you in the fridge, and then crouched down beside the dog, cupping his soft face in your hands. "Hey, Dog. Wanna go to the city with me?" He blinked up at you, tail thumping against the sofa. "Alright then, let's go see what kind of trouble we can get into with daddy's credit card."

With Dog trotting at your heels, you headed out into the city to buy a leash, find a public bath and then go to the university.

You needed to see Maki.

─── ·✧· ───

"We need to go to Naoya's party."

Maki nearly choked on her coffee, spluttering and coughing as she tried to catch her breath. "What?" She frantically wiped the coffee that was dripping down her chin. Her outburst drew the attention of a nearby table of students, who looked over with raised eyebrows. "I thought the party was canceled because of Dr. Handsome."

You shook your head, leaning forward and lowering your voice even further in the crowded cafeteria. "No, we need to go there because of Dr. Handsome. We have to find a way to cancel that lawsuit against him."

Maki's eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "Cancel the lawsuit? Why now?" A group of students walked by, their laughter momentarily interrupting your conversation. As they passed, Maki's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Wait a minute... isn't that Dr. Handsome's shirt you're wearing?"

You looked down at the shirt, which was clearly a men's shirt and of the brand Satoru always wore. "Oh yeah, about that... I live with him now."

"What? Hold up!" Maki stuttered, almost dying on her coffee again, causing several heads to turn in your direction. She quickly lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "You live with him? Are you serious? When did that happen and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Well, my apartment kind of went up in flames, so..." you trailed off, shrugging.

Maki's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Your apartment what now? Flames? What? Are you okay?"

You waved your hand dismissively. "That's not important right now. The thing is," you said, trying to get back on track, "Satoru would need more money to cover the lawsuit, and he would have to go to his parents and—," you saw the growing confusion in Maki's eyes and cut it short. "Bottom line, we have to cancel that lawsuit somehow."

Maki sat back in her chair, looking more confused by the second. "Okay," she said slowly, "but how do you plan on doing that? It's not like Naoya is just going to admit what he did and drop the charges."

"That's why we have to go to that party," you said. "We need to get into Naoya's house and find something, anything, that we can use against him. Proof that he tried to drug me, or that he's done it to other girls before. Something that will make him back off and drop the charges. But we can't tell Satoru. We have to go alone."

Maki stared at you for a long moment. "You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"So, are you in?"

"You know, when I said to have a little more fun, I didn't exactly mean it like this." Then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. "But hell yeah, I'm in. Let's wreck that asshole's place. But first, you've got to spill the tea on how you ended up living with the one and only Dr. Satoru Gojo." Then her eyes landed on Dog. "And then you have to tell me why you have a dog with you?"

You leaned down to scoop the sleepy beagle onto your lap, holding him up by the paws. "This is Dog. Isn't he cute?" You gently moved his paw, creating a half-hearted wave. "Say hi to Maki."

Maki raised an eyebrow. "You named him 'Dog'?"

"He doesn't have a name yet." You shrugged, then held up Satoru's black credit card. "Wanna go shopping while I fill you in? I need some clothes. And dog food."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: the biggest thank you goes out to @/nanamis-baker for helping me with this chapter, i was so unsure about everything going on and still am but she helped me tremendously to sort it all out on how i want to proceed with the story. again, thank you so much. you can read her work here <3

i know this chapter was pretty heavy again, but next chapter will be lighter and fun. also, we might need to add a sukuna slap list, because i lost count of how many times he gets slapped in this story (but deservedly) lol.

moreover, the story is now reaching its last third, can you believe that? it feels like forever since i started this series, so thanks to everyone for still keeping up and patiently waiting for updates :)

a few have wondered where his relapse happened (chapter 11), and i think most thought in his office at the university, but it was actually his place. i kinda forgot to explicitly state it, my bad (and never corrected it, i'm lazy). so… but now we all know it was actually in his apartment, and the reader came home to him after the whole ethics committee thing to check on him, and like found him there.

but anyway, thanks for reading, take care everyone :) and if you haven't checked out the spin-off with suguru yet, you can do so here <3

pls consider subscribing to the story on AO3, if you'd like to stay updated on future chapters. also, please note that i'll be kicking inactive readers off the taglist so that i can tag more people who genuinely interact with the story.

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